Never say never
by CrazyAbout
Summary: Inspired by NW's recently acclaimed performance in The Split, Harry needs a solicitor and Malcolm knows just the person.
1. Chapter 1

'What?' she snapped before apologising, as she lent over her desk, realising that her soaking wet hair was threatening to destroy the paperwork that invariably littered its top. She'd had a god awful journey into work, jostled at every turn by her fellow commuters who were attempting to board a train that was already fifteen minutes late. Added to which she was soaked, almost to the skin, because the skies had opened on a day when she'd chosen to leave her umbrella at home, having cleared up after Fidget who'd been sick. So not only was she late, but Ruth was well and truly wound up as well as cold and upset.

'Sorry have I caught you at the wrong moment?' said the gentle voice at the other end of the phone, as Malcolm, who'd seen her the previous evening at choir practice, wondered if he was making the right decision, by asking someone as gentle and kind as Ruth was to deal with his agitated and overwrought boss. Still Ruth did have a reputation that was second to none when it came to discretion, and if anyone could keep the now extra complicated divorce proceedings of Harry and his wife Jane out of the public eye, then it was surely her.

'He's called Harry, he's my boss, would you at least meet him?' he heard himself asking her.

'Give me a couple of hours, I can make some time then Malcolm,' she told him, looking down at her diary, that told her as if she needed reminding, that she had the funeral to attend the following afternoon, of the man who had been the other half of Harrison and Evershed Solicitors.

Ruth had a welter of qualifications to her name, having attended Oxford where she'd studied English Literature and Modern Languages, until wanting to tax her brain even further she'd sidestepped into law. She'd met Alex Harrison when she'd been interpreting at a multi European conference in Amsterdam, at a time when her career was really kicking off. Despite them spending all of their evenings together and him showing interest, she'd made it quite clear that she wasn't interested in taking their relationship any further. Time had moved on and they'd stayed firm friends, and when he'd married Sylvie and moved back to London, he'd persuaded her to move from the world of academia and come and work with him. That was until two weeks ago, when during a game of squash, he'd suffered a massive brain haemorrhage and had been dead within minutes.

Was his death affecting her more than she'd first realised? Of course it was, as she sat back down and wondered not for the first time, if a lifetime's commitment to the same person was worth it. Divorce after divorce, people who had vowed to spend the rest of their lives together, torn apart for a myriad of reasons and now this, had dampened any longing that she may have once had to fall in love and get married. Still, now wasn't the time to wallow in self-pity, she needed to straighten up her desk and get herself smartened up and quickly, before this Harry, what was his name Pearce, arrived on her doorstep.

Malcolm hadn't told her anything about him, but if he was a friend of Malcolm's then he was bound to be nice and without Alex and his contribution to the payroll to rely on, she really did need the money, or God alone knows how she was going to survive.

* * *

At forty six years old, when he was pushing fifty, Jane had finally decided, for personal gain he'd recently found out, that they needed to go their separate ways. It had been a close run thing more than twenty years ago when the children had been younger, but they'd made the joint decision, ridiculous though it had been, to stay together at least until the children were old enough to cope without their father. So much for good intentions, which had backfired stupendously when Graham had gone on a bender into heaven knows what.

It wasn't as though he hadn't tried to move on, whatever the hell that meant. He'd had dates aplenty in the early days as had she, but it had reached the stage where he could barely remember the last time that he'd been out with a woman, never mind slept with one. Work had become everything, but Catherine recently suggesting that he'd die alone had scared the hell out of him.

'You can forget dating sites, they're a nightmare,' he'd told her, 'I want to see what I'm getting myself into before taking the plunge,' was a comment that had elicited the raising of Catherine's eyebrows, and a look on her face that suggested he was living in the Dark Ages. But she hadn't finished and more was to come, and it was this and more precisely her use of the word old, that had prompted him to confide in Malcolm.

'For heaven's sake Dad,' Catherine had yelled at him, 'do as Mum wants, get yourself divorced and move on, she has, find somebody else or you'll end up as a sad old man with only a dog for company,' had been her last words to him, before she'd flown back to her saving the world exploits in Israel.

'Come on Malcolm what's this friend of yours like, is she any good?' Hadn't divulged anything other than the fact she was sweet, plus her address. Well he didn't want sweet, he wanted efficient and bloody ruthless, he wanted this to be over quickly before Catherine got back in a couple of months' time and suggested that she take him on as one of her hair brain projects, or worse still started checking his dirty linen. Still if Malcolm liked this Ruth and had recommended her, then there had to be something about her that made it worth him giving her a try. Apparently she liked classical music, which at least meant they had something in common and if she proved useless as a solicitor, then maybe he could let her down gently during a discussion about Beethoven?

Would he be required to divulge his occasional early day's dalliances outside of the marital bed that had put an end to his status as a husband? He hoped not. Their rows in those days had reached proportions that had threatened to wake the entire street and seen him buying a much smaller house that was closer to work and where he was now living. The only plus being that he'd been able to acquire Scarlet who he adored. But he and Jane weren't arguing any more they were friends, well up until recently when she'd met Harvey bloody high and mighty, who according to Catherine was a charmer and likely to become a permanent fixture, which for some inexplicable reason was irking him. He looked in the mirror and ran his hand through what was left of his hair, another annoying habit that he knew he'd acquired recently. He wished he hadn't, Catherine was right, he felt old all of a sudden.

* * *

She'd got as far as shaking his hand and saying 'you're Harry Pearce I presume, I'm Ruth Evershed, Malcolm called me to say that you needed my help,' before asking him to take a seat and to pass her the paperwork that he was holding.

'Harry?'

'Yes I'm sorry, I wasn't,'

'Yes I can see that, I know this must be difficult for you, but I do need you look at me and concentrate on what I'm saying.'

His bloody divorce from Jane was less than two months away and his solicitor had chosen this precise moment to up sticks and leave the country without so much as a bye or leave, and yet here he was, grateful that he was sitting in front of this tiny woman with the most startling blue eyes that he'd ever seen.

'Have you done this before?' he asked her inanely, praying that his face wasn't starting to flush and painfully aware of how stupid he sounded, having just walked across the Millennium Bridge and climbed the staircase which had directed him to the small four room offices of Harrison and Evershed Solicitors.

'Many times, you have no need to worry, you can trust me Harry,' did nothing to calm his heartrate that was accelerating far faster than his departure from the family home. Whether or not she had any idea as to the affect she was having on him he had no idea, as he watched her turning the pages patiently and making notes on the pad that sat beside her. He was even fascinated by the way that she was chewing the end of her pen, what the hell was the matter with him?

'We'll sort this out Harry however long it takes us,' she finally said, failing to bring him out of his daydream, as his mind went into an anything you want and I'll do it mode, made worse when she stood up and smiled at him and held out her hand, intending him to shake it and leave.

'I'll leave it in your capable hands then shall I?' he heard himself saying without moving, before realising that she was still standing there waiting.

As always when he had the rare opportunity to be free of the goldfish bowl where he spent most of his working day, Harry took as long as he thought he'd be able to get away with, before turning in the direction of Thames House. Today more than at any other time he felt the need to walk beside the river and for the solace that it might bring him. He'd started his day in a positive no more complications mode and now what, he'd been blindsided by a woman years younger than he was who had completely captivated him? What he wanted was so far removed from what he had as to appear unattainable, but was it too late to make that change and find someone he could trust and confide in? Jane the wife he had once loved and still did, but not with the passion of the young man that he'd been when they'd first met, was in love with another man. His children both grown up and on paths that he'd never taken, free to do as they pleased. And now, just when he'd thought that life might be able to take a turn for the better if his divorce from Jane could be made an easy transition for both of them, Juliet bloody Shaw had turned up again and was threatening to blackmail him.

Would Ruth take the time to read what he'd left with her, rather than him having to enter into the shame that he knew he'd feel if she wanted to discuss it with him? Would she even want to help him once she'd read it? Probably not, with a business to sort out and a funeral to attend?

Still as difficult as it was, he had to be patient. 'Two days Harry,' she'd said to him, 'give me two days and I'll call you I promise.'


	2. Chapter 2

Once Harry had left her office, Ruth had called it a day and gone home. The answer phone might or might not have messages waiting for her when she next came in, more likely not and although she'd given Harry her mobile number he was unlikely to ring, why would he? She'd told him that she'd ring him?

At least the house felt welcoming and as always when she came home, a small warm body wound its way around her legs.

'Feeling better boy, I'm sorry that I shouted at you,' she told the ever faithful Fidget, as though he'd ever answer, kicking off her shoes and hanging up her coat before heading upstairs to change. A warm drink, a shower, her baggy trousers and a warm sweater, that's what she needed if she was going to be able to concentrate on the file that she had in her briefcase. Lasagne, well what was left from the oversized amount that she'd made at the weekend would have to do. That and a salad and just enough wine, to help her get her through the evening and take her mind off the following day.

The third page in the file saw her abandoning the sofa and her cup of tea and heading into the kitchen to switch on the oven. With dinner now underway and with the table laid, there was just enough space to spread the paperwork in front of her. She really ought to convert the spare bedroom into a home office, how many times had she said that? Instead of which, she dismissed the thought, topped up her glass of wine and read on.

He'd seemed so mild mannered, sweet even and a bit nervous, yet according to this file, he'd been heartless and entirely to blame for the long ago break up of his marriage. Pull yourself together, don't be judgemental, people can change can't they, and why the bloody hell was she even thinking like this, he was a client, it was work, nothing more? But there had been something about Harry that had fascinated her, not as a solicitor but as a woman, at a time when she'd never been more vulnerable than she was right now. She'd sunk every penny that she had into the partnership that she'd had with Alex, but Alex was gone and she couldn't be choosy as to who she took on as clients, she needed this case wherever it took her.

She read on, pages that told her that he and his wife had initially stayed together for the sake of the children, grown up now and flown the nest she presumed. What were they like, had they been told about the long delayed divorce of their parents and would they prove a stumbling block in the transition? What about this new man in Jane's life, was this the reason that Harry had agreed to a divorce after all this time, they'd lived apart for years for heaven's sake? There were more questions than answers and Ruth could only work efficiently if she had all the facts. The oven beeped, her dinner was ready, she poured herself another glass of wine, and considered when and the alternatives as to how best approach him.

* * *

Funerals were never pleasant and Ruth had attended far too many. Up until now she'd always imagined that her fathers and her mothers would be the worse that she'd have to cope with, that was until Sylvie with her two year old son holding tightly to his mother's hand pleaded with Ruth to sit next to her. Jacob, oblivious to where he was or why he was there, was in Ruth's mind the sweetest child that had ever been born and as Sylvie scrabbled in her handbag for her hankies, Ruth found herself being handed the two year old, who promptly wrapped his tiny arms around her neck and closed his eyes. Ruth closed hers, grateful of his presence as she breathed him in, painfully aware that the coffin that stood no more than three metres in front of them contained his father, the man that had been her closest friend.

After a short introduction by the vicar, Michael who had been Alex's best man at his and Sylvie's wedding, walked slowly from where he was sitting towards the front of the church. The sound of his shoes on the stone floor, far too loud in the silence, before he turned towards the small congregation and took a deep breath.

'Alex was a man blessed with more integrity than anyone I've ever known and the best friend that I could have wished for,' he told his audience. 'He was a family man to the core who cared deeply for his wife and son, and at this sad time my heart goes out to them. My personal and abiding memories of him will be of his sense of humour that could light up a room and of the fun that we used to have together, all of which have been taken away from us far too early,' he continued, going on to tell them about the plans and hopes that Alex had had, looking towards where she was sitting holding Jacob, with Sylvie's stoic expression starting to crumble beside her.

For Ruth, to whom singing came as second nature worse was to follow, when the music of the first hymn filled the air. She was supposed to be the grown up here, in a congregation full of Alex's thirty something or so friends, as for the first time in her life she found herself unable to sing. She'd told herself to be brave and to hold it together for Sylvie, but she was a million miles away from being able to do that, her only comfort being Jacob's tiny little form that she was holding tightly against her.

She needed a distraction, something that would prevent her from crying, and the only way to do that was to think about the incredibly complicated contents of the file she'd read the previous evening. Not only was Harry her one and only client asking her to act for him during his divorce proceedings, but a tiny post it note that he'd added, told her, for a reason yet to be explained, that he was being blackmailed. She was so way out of her comfort zone with all this, but the analyst in her was also intrigued. He worked with Malcolm at the Department for Food and Fisheries, in fact he was Malcolm's boss, so what the hell had he done to get himself blackmailed, done a dodgy deal in some trade war over the fruit and veg? She very much doubted it. The only saving grace as far as she was concerned, was that he'd arrived on her doorstep via Malcolm and she trusted Malcolm implicitly, because without him she'd have sent Harry packing. Or would she?

* * *

'Have you got an idea what's the matter with Harry?' Adam asked Malcolm, arriving at his desk unexpectedly, having taken Harry his afternoon cup of tea and been confronted with him shutting the lid on his laptop rather too quickly, before dismissing him with just a brief nod on the grounds that he needed time to think.

They'd had an unusually quiet day, free from any intel or terrorist threats, that had seen them catching up on the routine and boring jobs that inevitably heaped up when they were busy.

'He's got a lot on his mind at the moment, I think it's best we leave him be, at least for the next few days,' didn't answer Adam's question or serve to dim his curiosity, especially as Juliet Shaw had just two days ago, barged her way into the early morning briefing as though she owned the place and Harry hadn't questioned it. Come to think of it, when hadn't Harry been in anything other than a strange mood recently, or come to that, acting as though he'd taken his eye off the ball?

'What's she even doing here?' had resulted in Harry telling him that his life had just gone _tits up_ but to leave it, it was private and he'd sort it, but most worrying was that Harry had said that unless they got rid of this bloody woman, that his time as Section Head would become untenable.

Harry was sitting in his office, trying to ignore the fact that Adam had headed in Malcolm's direction. Malcolm wouldn't betray a confidence, he was sure about that. He looked at his watch, Ruth would be at the funeral now, he wondered how she was, if she'd read the sorry state that his life had once been and still was? He'd thought of little else since he'd seen her the previous day. He didn't sleep at the best of times and now he didn't want to. Would she ring him, would she think him pushy if he rang her, how the hell was he going to justify another mysterious disappearance from the grid without people, or more precisely Juliet asking where he was? Which meant what, that he'd have to instigate a meeting outside of working hours and how would Ruth respond to that? He looked at his watch again and tried to picture where she was and whether or not she was coping?

By the end of the day, another one where Harry's productivity would have been seen to be wanting, had anyone other than Adam known about it, he strolled towards his boss's office. Harry was pouring himself what looked to be another glass of whisky, always a sign that he was stressed or needed a good night's sleep once he got home. Adam had always held the greatest respect for Harry, was fond of him Fiona said and she was right. His sometimes gruff persona masked a lifetime of hurt and he knew that his boss was lonely, who wouldn't be after heaven knows how many years on his own? Whatever Harry was going through at the moment, it in some way related to that, this wasn't work related, it was personal, Adam was sure about that.

'Adam,' said Harry, briefly returning his gaze, resigned to the fact that once he'd been to see the Home Secretary and handed in his resignation, that Adam would be the one that would have to step into his shoes and ensure that life on the grid carried on as normal. He nodded to him to sit down and reached for a second glass, having conseeded that Adam had to be told what was happening.

'Juliet Shaw's blackmailing me,' he told him without preamble.

'Jesus Harry, what the hell have you done?' was Adam's assumption that whatever it was had happened recently, whereas it had happened so long ago, that as far as Harry was concerned, if not a huge error of judgement on his part, it was at least history, done and dusted. Now though, with Juliet threatening to _have a quiet little chat_ with Catherine who had so recently come back into his life, which in all probability would blow any chance of him ever seeing his daughter again, he was hamstrung, and the only possibility of preventing it happening was to give Juliet what she wanted.

'But you can't let this happen, the woman's a power crazed lunatic Harry, have you talked to your solicitor about this?' He asked him.

'She's called Ruth, she's a friend of Malcolm's,' he told him, which despite his powers to remain casual and disconnected, failed abysmally, as Adam picked up on the small tell that always showed when Harry was holding something back.

 _Leave it old son, he'll tell you when he's ready too, he always does,_ failed to connect and Adam pressed on.

'This Ruth, she might be good but she's an outsider Harry, surely it would be wiser to use one of the Service's solicitors?'

'Yes and I'm a Monkey's Uncle Adam, so just leave it,'

 _OK, change the subject._

So what do you intend to do about Juliet?' he asked Harry instead.

'I have no bloody idea, I just need time to think it through,' was all Adam got, before Harry looked at his watch again. She'd be home, surely she'd be home by now?


	3. Chapter 3

His hand had been hovering over the phone, almost from the moment that he'd woken up, so that when it actually rang, the caller who had spent the best part of her morning gathering her thoughts into some sort of order before she telephoned him, was so surprised by the speed at which he answered, that she failed to say anything. Adam who was back in Harry's Office for their prearranged 'how are we going to deal with Juliet' discussion, took one look at his boss's expression and made a hasty exit.

'Ruth is that you?' asked Harry in an expectant whisper, as the silence at the other end of the phone continued. If the caller was in fact Juliet and not Ruth, then in his haste to speak to her, he'd inadvertently handed her more ammunition by mentioning Ruth's name.

'Yes, I'm sorry, I'm just finding it difficult to concentrate today after the funeral,' she used as an excuse, whilst at the other end of the phone Harry audibly breathed a sigh of relief.

Whilst it had heightened her awareness that she needed to appoint another partner in order to deal with the six or so less urgent cases that had been put on hold, it was her last-minute promise to Sylvie that she'd look after Jacob for a complete weekend and the thought of seeing Harry again that had been uppermost in her mind.

'You're obviously busy I can call you later,' she heard Harry saying, as she looked at the clock and remembered that it was her who'd rung him.

'Don't be silly, come over about five if you have the time?' she suggested.

'Five's fine I'll see you then,' and he was gone. He to determine whether or not he should go home and change before he went to see Ruth for a second time, rather than look like the stuffed shirt that Catherine had suggested he'd become, and Ruth to consider how the hell she was going to juggle all the balls that were currently falling out of the sky, one of which was a man that was due to arrive in just over two hours time.

For Harry the time ticked by interminably slowly, even though he'd taken Adam's advice and had held off visiting the Home Secretary, to explain the reason for and the fact that he intended to resign. His excuse to leave Thames House at three because he had a blinding headache went without question and was made easier because Juliet had left in advance of that. To go and make some other poor bugger's life a misery he suspected. Arriving home, he did what he always did, he fed and walked his beloved Scarlet before he headed upstairs to divest himself of his suit and all that went with it and to shower and get changed. Seriously wanting, was how he realised his casual clothes were, as he flicked his way through his vast collection of almost entirely white shirts, until he found a pale grey one that he decided would have to do.

'A tie, no definitely not a tie? he said to Scarlet, so he pulled open a draw and decided on what according to its label was a mid-blue crew neck sweater, which combined with his dark grey trousers, when he looked in the mirror, made him feel marginally better. Scarlet approved, but then she generally did, she was biased.

The subject of his thoughts had spent the intervening time, tidying up the adjoining rooms that made up the office. What had once been Alex's room she'd already tidied, as Susie their clerk had fled the scene as soon as the news of Alex's death had come through and wasn't due back until Monday. The small kitchen which slotted nicely into _the swing a cat category_ was always tidy, but the bathroom at the back she'd had a quick wipe around in case Harry needed to use it. All she needed to do now, was to have one last look through his file and compose not only her questions, but herself.

* * *

For someone who usually blustered his way into any office, with a sure and certain plan as to how the conversation with whichever poor sod he was visiting would go, Harry was walking across the Millennium Bridge with no such confidence. It was liberating to be free from a suit and tie at any time, but today it was more than that. He didn't want to be the hard and overbearing bastard that he knew he sometimes was, he was a man in need of help and he needed to be polite and prove to Ruth that he meant it. Few people in his life, either personally and professionally had ever seen him for what he really was, but if this Ruth was as good at her job and kind as Malcolm had suggested, then he just hoped that she'd see him in the light that he intended. Swimming against the tide, sounded more appropriate than pissing into the wind where Ruth was concerned, and he was determined to try and behave as a gentleman.

Ruth had looked at her watch and decided that maybe a cup of tea would ease the way into her interrogation of Harry, because the notes she'd made were personal to the point of being intrusive. It was tea or nothing, Alex had been the coffee drinker and she was just coming back out of the kitchen when there was a knock on the door. Spot on five, she liked that, it was essential in her business life, even if what she did at home was more random and on a whim. She'd pictured him arriving straight from work and wearing the same suit that she'd seen him in a couple of days ago, so was more than surprised as to how much more relaxed and younger he looked in casual clothes, although she determined not to show it. Whatever her personal thoughts were they had to be put to one side, this was work, nothing more, she told herself again.

Harry rarely sat on the visitor's side of the desk and even when he did, he invariably had the upper hand. This was entirely different and he hadn't realised until now, how disadvantaged he'd feel.

'We'll take this at a speed that you feel comfortable with, but I need you to be totally open and honest with me Harry,' and he was already in trouble. 'I know that it will mean you going over old ground which may prove difficult, but if this gets to court, which I'll do everything in my power to ensure that it doesn't, then I don't want to be confronted with any nasty surprises.'

 _As in I'm the head of counter terrorism at MI5_.

'Absolutely ask away,' he told her.

'Your marriage break-up with Jane. Despite what I've read Harry, I'm finding it hard to believe that you consider yourself entirely to blame?'

 _How many times had he said that to someone in far more strife than he was at this particular minute, apart from finding a straightforward answer to her question?_

'I've always struggled to separate the professional from the personal, even before I met Jane, to my own detriment now it seems, as I'm stuck in a giant- sized rut and she's found herself someone that can give her everything that I didn't,' he imagined explained his current dilemma succinctly, but obviously not, she wanted more.

'Can you elaborate Harry?' She asked him, her pen now flicking irritatingly between her fingers.

'The perfect family that she presumed we'd be, when I always believed I suppose that there was no such thing. A good father to our children and stability, above all stability is what she really needed, but because I spent endless hours at work or abroad I wasn't able to offer her any of those things,' was far removed from the entire story, but he hoped it would do.

'And how does that make you feel now?' Wasn't what he was expecting. He'd told Adam to mind his own business, so could he really tell someone he barely knew what the services psychologist had tried to drag out of him for years, was he prepared to do that, maybe it was time? He took another deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose before he continued.

'I've begun to feel like a failure which was highlighted by something that my daughter said, she's very forthright is Catherine, she's not a bit like me.'

 _So that was one of his children accounted for, the other she'd no doubt hear about later, but she didn't want to push him too far at this stage, when he was obviously struggling and attempting to move the goalposts by way of deflection._

'Go on,' she encouraged him.

Choosing his words very carefully but without lying to Ruth, which had seen them taking a break when he'd said that he needed to use the bathroom while she'd made them another cup of tea and fished into her bag and produced a packet of chocolate digestives, his favourites, he'd reached the stage where he assumed that despite him giving far more away than he'd intended, he was winging it rather successfully. But Ruth had been around the block, she wasn't the young and naïve solicitor that she'd once been, and she was beginning to detect that there was more behind the veneer that Harry was exuding. His statement that Jane hadn't realised what long hours he'd be expected to work, his trips abroad to visit his equivalent in other countries, made sense given the job that he had, but there was something else, there always was in a complicated divorce case and she needed him to tell her. Not necessarily today, she'd let him think that she'd accepted his explanation, so she moved on.

'Let's change the subject and talk about Juliet Shaw, tell me about her and why she's blackmailing you?' she asked him.

 _Bollocks he thought he'd got away with it, he'd intended saying he was getting tired, which he was he suddenly realised, so could they do the rest of this another day? He'd been blindsided again and what was it about this woman that had made him open - up, almost to the point of it being a confession? She was on his side, or at least for the moment she was, so maybe it was for the best that he unburdened himself. The question was how?_

'It's complicated Ruth and it's not that I don't trust you, but there's something that I've buried for so long that I'm finding it hard to talk about. She used to work where I do, we had a brief affair, it was a huge mistake on my part, and now years later she's back and threatening to tell my daughter,' he knew wasn't sufficient to satisfy Ruth, as she pressed him further.

'Which brings me to the obvious questions Harry, why now and what does she want?'

 _Could he lie to Ruth, claim the he was just a lowly mortal of no significance whatsoever and that what Juliet was asking of him, should he agree to her demands, wouldn't see him resigning rather than spending the rest of his working days battling, as she grew ever more powerful and him powerless to prevent it? No was the simple answer, he couldn't. His moment of reckoning had arrived and he needed a way out._

'Would you be prepared to continue this over a drink?' he suggested.

* * *

It was madness she kept telling herself, he was a client, not that she hadn't met with clients outside of the office before, as she walked alongside Harry who was helping her carry her shopping, not in the direction of her train station but across the bridge towards his car to give he a lift home so that she could change. Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at him, he looked so much more relaxed now that he was out of her office and there was a vestige of a smile on his face. Her dressed in her business suit whereas he was dressed as though it were a weekend made her feel uncomfortable, as it screamed of the last two godforsaken weeks that she'd endured, were she to accept his invitation which she had. She needed this drink and the bite to eat that he'd suggested, before she faced the weekend with Jacob and then the inevitable list of hopefuls, that were clamouring to replace Alex.


	4. Chapter 4

Trying to avoid being mesmerised by Harry's fingers that were strumming in time to Haydn's trumpet concerto, Ruth smiled and turned her head to one side, watching the sites of London flying past the window. What wouldn't she give to be driven home like this at the end of every day, rather than having to battle her way through the unforgiving throng, most of which was inches or in some cases at least a foot taller than she was?

'I'm assuming this is it?' said his voice, dragging her back from her daydream, and to the need to make the decision as to what happened next. When had she last been out, as invited out, when choir practice once a week and her as and when babysitting duties of Jacob were the sum total of her social life? It was as ridiculous as it was a reality. Harry's invitation for a drink and a bite to eat amounted to what? Was he assuming that this was a date or just a business meeting, she had no idea? Still sitting here like a rabbit in the headlights wasn't going to solve anything, or answer her question, and whatever this was, she at least needed to have a shower and to get changed.

'I'll be as quick as I can,' she told him, glancing over her shoulder, as he followed her down her garden path carrying her shopping, then waited patiently why she scrabbled in search of her keys.

As always when she opened her front door, Fidget arrived without summoning, demanding some attention.

'You have a cat,' Harry commented somewhat obviously, as her miaowing tabby wound his way around her legs and then decided he preferred Harry's, before she bent down to drag him away, realising with horror that he'd deposited some fur on what looked to be Harry's very expensive trousers.

'Please don't worry about it, Scarlet's the same when I arrive home, they miss you don't they?' Didn't require an explanation that he wasn't talking about a girlfriend, but she got one anyway.

That settled, she pointed him in the direction of the sitting room and said that she'd be as quick as she could and to make himself at home while he waited.

Harry was perfectly content to idle away however much time it took before Ruth appeared again, as he took in his surroundings and accumulated as much information as he could as to what Ruth might do during her evenings at home. Malcolm was right, she certainly liked music as he bent his head and read the titles of the copious amount of classical CD's that she possessed. But it was the books that dominated the room, some of which were in languages that he would never have attempted to learn, never mind be fluent in, which presumably she was? Had she been a linguist in a former life, he could certainly picture it? Malcolm would certainly know. By now he was so engrossed in his exploration into the innermost workings of Ruth's head, that he didn't hear the door open.

'Ready when you are,' she told him, in a voice which to her sounded nervous, but to him filled him with the confidence he'd been lacking. Bugger this evening being a continuance of the interrogation, he intended enjoying himself in the company of this intriguing woman. He turned around to face her, too quickly as it turned out, because as his head spun and then settled, he realised that he was gawping at the transformation that was standing in front of him. Gone was the dark suit that she worn at the office, she was wearing a blue dress and jacket that almost matched her eyes. Not only that, she'd obviously washed her hair as well as had a shower, because as he walked towards her with the intention of following her out of the door, her hair was shining in the diminishing light and the smell of her perfume whatever it was, was as subtle as it was intoxicating. Any thought that he might have harboured that he'd be able to walk away from this woman when she'd finished working for him, was gone.

Gentleman that he was, although to be honest, some of the images that were going through his head in that moment were far from being gentlemanly, he gathered his thoughts into something less adventurous and opened the car door for her, before he walked around to the driver's side and strapped himself in. Not that he intended taking advantage of her, she was vulnerable having just lost her partner and he was far from confident himself. For the foreseeable future he was her client he reminded himself, nothing more, although his original idea of a simple pub meal and a couple of drinks suddenly felt inadequate. But where to take her so that they could have privacy to chat and maybe give him the chance to get to know her better, was easier said than done? He was so out of practice in this kind of situation, whereas once upon a time he'd have known everywhere when it came to style, and would have known just how to pitch this so as not to come over as trying to impress, whereas now he was floundering.

In the end, having asked Ruth if there was anywhere that she fancied going, to be told that anywhere so long as it wasn't noisy would be lovely, he drove over to Richmond and parked outside a small restaurant adjacent to the Thames. It was still early, around seven thirty, so finding a table away from what might eventually become a crowded area was easy. With their tentatively ordered choice of starters already being prepared and a glass of white wine and nibbles in front of them, the next requirement was a conversation that they were both struggling to start, until Ruth struck upon the common bond of Malcolm.

'How long have you and Malcom worked together?' she eventually asked him.

'Years, I don't remember exactly how many, but certainly more than twenty,' he told her.

'So, I'm presuming that he knows Juliet Shaw?' she continued, immediately wishing she hadn't, as his head dipped to one side and the expression on his face changed to one of pleading.

 _Please Ruth not tonight._

'He certainly does,' he told her, trying to blank out the image.

'But not as well as you do I suspect, am I right?' She replied, with what she hoped he would sense was an apology in her voice and an effort to recapture his previous mood.

 _Malcolm and Juliet, or Malcolm with anyone, you have to be kidding me,_ but 'are you trying to ruin my appetite?' he asked her, his previous smile back.

'Wow she's that bad, is she?' she responded, her eyes now twinkling at him across the table, his interrogation temporarily suspended.

During a break between courses, Ruth excused herself and headed in search of the ladies. She needed to compose herself and have one of her in the mirror conversations that she frequently indulged in at home, where at least she got the upper hand if not always the answer that she was looking for. Twenty - four hours earlier she'd cried herself to sleep, crippled with fear as to how she was going to cope without Alex, whereas now she'd spent the last hour or so feeling happier than she could remember. Did that make her a shallow or uncaring person, or was the way she was behaving just a coping mechanism that had kicked in to help her deal with what she'd lost? A wake after a funeral did just that didn't it, gave the grieving a chance to laugh again before the reality of what had happened recaptured them? Except, and it was a big except, would she have felt the same way if she were out with Malcolm? She certainly wouldn't, because there was something about Harry that had made her feel worth something, which until now had only happened behind the safety of her desk. She needed to get back out there and enjoy whatever else this evening, or more importantly Harry offered her..

* * *

'It seems wasteful not to make full use of the quiet you desire,' Harry said smiling at her, having suggested that rather than drive straight back to central London, that they walk along the pathway beside the river and enjoy what was left of the evening. The atmosphere in the restaurant had become less conducive to quiet contemplation once the tables had begun to fill up, by which time he'd reached a point where he was keen to continue to have Ruth's company to himself. To Ruth who by now was feeling positively overwhelmed, having been treated by Harry who it seemed had orchestrated the entire evening to suit her, a walk beside the river was closer to normal. It was ordinary, it was what she more easily coped with and her confidence that had been bobbing up and down like an apple in a bucket, was beginning to increase.

'If I'm not allowed to talk about Juliet this evening, will you at least tell me about your children?' she asked him, when he'd guided her to a small bench by a bend in the river, where a family of ducks were swimming about in the shallows between the reeds.

'You might not like what you hear,' he answered her, grateful in part that he'd been prevented from messing up the evening and possibly any extension to their relationship, by doing something stupid like attempting to kiss her.

'Tell me anyway, I not here to judge you Harry and nor will I,' gave him the confidence and the need if he was honest with himself, to unburden the another something that had been buried for years.

'Graham was twelve and Catherine eight, when I really started to mess things up,' he told her.

'What happened?'

'The discovery of the opposite sex in Graham's case. He heard Jane and I arguing, something that we'd previous managed to contain until the kids weren't around and he took full advantage of the situation and used it as an excuse for his bad behaviour. He brought a girl home after school and somehow managed to smuggle her into his bedroom without Jane seeing them. As you can imagine her parents went ballistic. He stopped studying and was so disruptive that we made the decision to send him to boarding school. Mainly because Jane just wasn't coping with him on her own and I was working all hours and not giving her the support that she needed, which was made worse, because by then I'd moved out.'

It was so far removed from the entire story but he couldn't bring himself to tell her about that yet.

'Why didn't you divorce?'

'God knows and in hindsight we should have done, but things calmed after Graham wasn't around and as neither of us had anyone else, we sort of drifted into our separate lives, which up until now hasn't become an issue.

'What about Catherine?'

'She was a tough little thing, or so I believed at the time, but she missed Graham and came down on his side, and it isn't until recently that she's let me back into her life and now Juliet Shaw is threatening to ruin that.'

'And Jane's found herself another man?'

'Yes, and Jane's found herself another man,' he replied, with a deep sigh and brought to end a conversation that Ruth had listened to on endless occasions over the years from one side of a broken family.

'Come on Harry, it's time you drove me home,' she said, squeezing his hand without thinking about what she was doing.

* * *

Once home, Ruth changed into her more comfortable clothes and made herself a cup of tea, before heading into the sitting room and settling herself comfortably on the sofa. The prime object of her contemplation had left her confused and curious, having presented himself as, what was the expression she was searching for? Two different people. One was the caring and attentive man who had gone out of his way to give her the evening that she'd wanted and the other who had _held back,_ that was what he'd done, when she'd tried to press him about Juliet. Why? Screamed the solicitor in her, did it matter? As opposed to the woman who had agreed to his suggestion that as it was the weekend and he apparently didn't have to work, that he could come over and give her a hand with Jacob. It wasn't that she didn't trust him or like him, she did in bucket loads and had been thrilled at the thought of seeing him again so soon and away from the office. But there was something about the way that he'd described his reason for not getting a divorce that still confused her. She was sure at one stage that he'd been about to use the word _protect_ , but had stopped himself from saying it, but why? Everyone who'd ever had children wanted to protect them whatever age they were, but this protection, if that's what it was seemed important and that made her curious. Malcolm might know, but that would mean betraying her client's confidence and she'd never do that. Maybe in the cold light of day tomorrow she'd find a way to ask him, although at the moment if she could ignore the fact that she was his solicitor, she felt less than inclined to do so, in case it ruined what was developing.


	5. Chapter 5

She was already walking towards the door when the bell rang, with a protesting Jacob glued to her hip and sounds of the opening refrain from Thomas the Tank Engine echoing from the sitting room.

'Mine too,' said Harry, with a look in his eyes that she was getting used to, when Jacob pointed and said trains, after she'd explained that it was Jacob's favourite.

Plonking Jacob back on the pile of cushions that littered the floor and with Harry having said yes please that he'd like a cup of coffee and was more than happy to keep an eye on him, Ruth retreated into the kitchen to put the kettle on and to ponder lunch. The fact that she had nothing that constituted lunch, that didn't come out of a jar or a tin or got eaten with a spoon, couldn't be helped. She'd shopped for her and Jacob, but Harry's last-minute suggestion that he'd come over in the morning so that they could continue their chat, had caught her on the hop. It was baked beans or spaghetti hoops, neither of which seemed adequate.

With a mug of coffee in her hand she opened the door, expecting to find Harry, bored to death by Thomas, James and Percy, who were chugging their way towards the sidings, where a huffing and puffing Gordon was about to give them a bollocking, for something innocuous and totally beyond her interest. Harry it appeared had no such reservations as he sat completely relaxed, his hands behind his head and his demeanour totally at odds with how he'd described his ability to cope with children. He certainly wasn't pretending, because he hadn't even realised that she was standing there watching him, as Jacob clapped his hands in time with the music and giggled at the prospect of the impending train crash.

'Riveting is it?' she suggested, amusement now evident in her voice, handing him his coffee and explaining about lunch, as he grinned back at her and said that whatever she gave him would be fine. Such was the innuendo in his voice, that even with her back to him when she crossed the room in the direction of the door, she was more than sure that Harry had lost any interest in trains.

Lunch as in beans on toast and in their case a pot of tea, was for Harry a close as it came to domesticity as he could remember. Ruth on the other hand, although enjoying it as much as he was, knew that at the end of the meal and when she'd put Jacob down for his nap, that there were some questions that had to be addressed. Namely what is it about you that gives Juliet the power to blackmail you and what do you do for a living? Both of which might see her losing Harry as a client and what else, she couldn't quite define? She'd read his file that had been supplied by his previous solicitor, so she already knew that he was seventeen years older than she was. That in itself wasn't a problem if he was her client, but if he was looking for more, which she suspected he was, then could she let herself get involved with someone who had once been so involved with a woman, that eighteen years later, still had the ability to blackmail him? It really came back to Malcolm who had pushed Harry in her direction, but why? It wasn't as though she'd really elaborated about her work, although she could recall the evening not long after Malcolm's mother had died, that he'd sought her company and had invited her for a drink. A couple of lost and lonely souls together they'd joked, as they'd sat in the corner of a quiet pub and worked their way through a bottle of wine. Was Harry a lost and lonely soul as well, was this what this was about? Maybe she should have asked Malcolm more questions than she had done? With what had happened recently, she was already emotionally struggling with her own problems and she didn't know if she had the strength to take on someone else's as well, other than as his solicitor, although in her heart she'd already crossed that boundary. She glanced at the clock.

'Right young man time for your nap,' she said to Jacob, 'I won't be a moment,' to Harry.

* * *

'What exactly is it that you and Malcolm do?' she asked him tentatively, as she sat down opposite Harry and reluctantly changed rolls with her solicitors hat teetering perilously on the side of her head, with every sign of toppling off.

'Hasn't he told you?'

'Yes, but I don't buy it Harry, not now that I've spent some time with you, so I need to hear your version,' and it slipped even further.

'Why?'

'This need that you have to protect the people that you get close too, it sticks out a mile and it seems excessive,' and she was back to the script, well almost.

'What do you mean?'

'See you're doing it now, by avoiding my question,' and Harry was the one that was losing the inner struggle.

'If I tell you it will take you to a place that I'd rather you didn't have to go,' he told her, looking into eyes that reminded him of a sky that was clearing after a thunderstorm and heavy rain. Intense and boring into his, but with a backdrop of compassion, that made it impossible for him to look away. 'Is it so important that you need to know?' Was a question to which he already knew the answer.

'It's vital Harry,' was as predictable as it was terrifying, as he battled with his conscience and come up with something less shocking than I'm a spy.

'And when were you going to tell me, after you'd got me into bed, and your name, is it even Harry?' She heard herself saying, as her thoughts fast forwarded to her mouth before she had time to stop them. 'And why am I bloody well apologising to you?' she continued, having said sorry, as Harry stood up, looking stricken that she thought that his only motive in coming here that morning was that he would be crass enough to make a move on her, so soon after they'd met. Now assuming that his only option was to leave, Harry turned towards the door, only to be halted when he heard Ruth clear her throat.

'I'll make us some more tea and then if you want me to continue as your solicitor, I need you to tell me exactly what it is that makes Juliet feel confident enough to blackmail you Harry,' and she'd landed him with another problem that had lain simmering for years. But at least she hadn't thrown him out.

He didn't have long to wait before Ruth came back and apologised again, for what she described as a 'not at all like her and uncalled for remark,' the energy that she'd shown before seemingly gone and presumably prepared to listen, as she handed him his tea and sat directly across the room from him.

'Juliet and I were paired together on a mission and one evening we ended up, well you can guess where,' he said, trying to maintain eye contact with Ruth, but failing to do so. 'Graham hadn't settled at boarding school and with me now out of the marital home, he and I were barely on speaking terms. I'd gone to the bathroom when he rang and left me a message, pleading with me to call him. Juliet heard it and switched off my phone, so it wasn't until the next morning that I picked it up, by which time Graham had attempted to take his own life, or that's how it appeared. He was thirteen for Christ's sake Ruth, a young and frightened child and I failed him,' he pleaded, with such a passion that Ruth knew he wasn't lying. 'He's fine now and living in Manchester with his girlfriend, but at a time when he most needed me I wasn't there. Jane and I, well we pulled together for as long as it took for the furore to settle down. But if Juliet tells either of my children where I was that night, then I couldn't begin to describe the fallout.'

Ruth needed a moment to adjust and to think. Juliet's proposed action bordered on criminal, or did it?

'But it would be your word against hers Harry, she was the one who switched off the phone.' She finally suggested.

'Yes she did, but I've got no way of proving that. My relationship with my children is still hanging by the tiniest of threads Ruth, so the slightest thing to suggest that I didn't care back then and there will be no way back, not this time.'

'Then the answer is simple Harry. Let Juliet have what she wants Harry, or at least let her think that she's got it.'

'Then what?'

'Find a way to stop her Harry, your the spook, I'm only your solicitor.'

Any chance of Harry daring to comment that she was already more than that was brought to a halt by a wide - awake Jacob, who had navigated the decent of the stairs on his bum, which posed the question as to now what?

'I usually take him out for a walk about now,' had Harry bundling Jacob's pushchair into his car as Ruth strapped him into his car seat. With very little encouragement from Harry, the fact that Ruth had been Jacob's babysitter from the moment that he'd been born, her relationship with Alex and Sylvie and her intention to keep the company running by finding another solicitor who was willing to buy in, took up the best part of an hour of their walk, by which time they'd cleared the air and he knew virtually everything there was to know about Ruth Evershed. Maybe it was his own honesty or that he'd told her that a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders, that made her open up about herself. He didn't know and he didn't care. He didn't even mind the fact that he'd walked further than he'd walked in years. In fact he was so confident as to how things were going that he was just about to ask her if they could finish the day together, by him buying a takeaway to share at hers, when he looked up, to where no more than fifty metres in front of them, Adam and Fiona were walking towards them with Wes swinging between them.

He was cornered from the moment that Wes spotted him and shouted Uncle Harry, leaving Adam and Fiona in his wake and racing towards him. The fact that he was pushing Jacob in his pushchair was not a sense of amusement to Wes, but as Adam and Fiona approached him, he was done for. The grin on Adam's face and the knowing look that Fiona was sporting said everything.

'This is Ruth, she's my solicitor,' he offered, as they all shook hands, the look on Fiona's face continuing to say 'yes of course she is.'

'What's his name?' asked Wes after a while, pointing to Jacob, who up until then had been ignored, apart from Adam who had been looking at Jacob and pondering the fact that after what amounted to little more than a week, that Harry was already on _pushing a pushchair terms_ with his solicitor, who apparently had a child.

'He's called Jacob, Harry's helping me babysit,' Ruth said, completely unaware that she was talking to two more spies, both of whom were thinking along the same lines, that went something like _who are you kidding_ , as was Harry who was painfully aware as to what was going through their minds. He was saved any further misery as Jacob decided that he'd had enough of being in one place and started to get agitated, at which point Ruth suggested that perhaps they ought to get moving.

'Right then, I hope that we'll all have a chance to catch up again soon,' said Fiona, smiling between Ruth and Harry, as Wes protested that he wanted to stay with his Uncle Harry as they said their goodbyes.

'More spies?' asked Ruth as a joke, only to be told yes.

'Do you actually know anyone who isn't?' Resulted in a shrug of his shoulders and a response of 'only you and my children.'

* * *

While Ruth gave Jacob his bath and then tucked him up in bed, Harry got his wish and was heading towards the nearest takeaway in Ruth's part of London. All in all, he'd come out of the day pretty much unscathed and mercifully with his relationship with Ruth still intact. That Adam and Fiona had read more into him being with Ruth away from her office, was in a way an advantage. In the current situation with Juliet, he needed allies and Ruth wouldn't be able to help him when he was on the grid. That they'd seen him in a different light wasn't such a bad thing was it?' He was human after all, vulnerable as the next man when it came to relationships and if he couldn't trust Adam and Fiona, then who could he trust? He had a long road ahead of him if he was going to be able to maintain his control over Juliet, but in the short term, if he went with Ruth's suggestion, then surely the threat she posed would disappear? What happened after that was in the lap of the God's and a good deal of help from Ruth to make his divorce a painless one. After that, well he hoped that he knew what path he'd be allowed to take, although that presented him with a problem that Ruth had already highlighted, his need to protect people he cared about, which now included her and by extension Jacob. Not only was she a bloody good solicitor, she was perceptive in every sense and despite her initial reaction when he'd confessed what he did, she'd not baulked at the idea of him working in a world that was completely alien to her. An S24 was the next step, but not until Juliet was out of sight on the top floor with more to worry about than who he was or wasn't seeing.


	6. Chapter 6

He hadn't meant to upset, but he had. Once they'd finished their meal, he'd jokingly persuaded her to abandon her interrogation into his past indiscretions and perceived failings and tell him more about her, or more precisely her interest in multiple languages. They'd taken their drinks through to the sitting room, where she'd curled up on the settee with her feet under her, and he'd settled himself in an armchair directly facing her, hanging on to her every word with a fascination that had taken him to a time when he'd been younger and bursting with the same enthusiasm. Why on earth he'd been daft enough to introduce Alex into the conversation and ask her how she was coping, he'd immediately regretted. Gone was the bright eyed woman that had stolen his heart, it was as though a cloud had crossed the sun and it was him that put it there.

'God I'm such an idiot, I'm so sorry,' he'd told her as he'd lent forward unsure of what to do, until she'd willingly accepted his handkerchief. After that she'd excused herself and gone to the bathroom and had come back, mercifully with her mask of composure once again in place and him seemingly forgiven. The only questions after that had been hers about Adam Fiona and Wes, which he'd answered with as much information as he could without compromising her, which had coincided with their mutual and somewhat unwanted decision that they needed to call it a night. That he'd kept his hands to himself despite the increasing urge he'd had to ask her if he could kiss her, most especially when she brushed a stray hair off the collar of his jacket when she was bidding him goodnight at the door, with the promise that she'd be in touch with Jane's solicitor and that he needed to talk to Adam about her proposal re Juliet, was in itself a miracle, given how much he knew his feelings for her had developed. But he'd held back. She was fragile and she was hurting and he knew only too well how that felt.

That Ruth hadn't had to drive home she'd been very grateful. She'd closed the door on Harry with feelings that were completely at odds with each other, which had seen her making herself another cup of tea which she taken up to her bedroom. She'd spent her entire adult life, well since she'd joined Alex as a divorce lawyer, determined to steer clear of a deep and meaningful relationship based on what, a reason that seemed so ridiculous now that she'd met Harry, as to be pointless. She was into her thirties for goodness sake, going into the best years of her life Alex had told her, and she'd replied by saying that she was quite content with the odd night out, with a no strings attached arrangement. Then bang, along had come Harry Pearce with his baggage load of problems, which in the space of just over a week, had left her completely at a loss as to how to deal with her warring emotions. If ever there was a contradiction in one person, then it was him. A spy that did what for a living she couldn't possibly imagine and hadn't dared to ask, as opposed to the man who had been so gentle and caring with Jacob and with her when she'd almost fallen to pieces in front of him.

First thing in the morning she'd be capable Ruth again, speaking to Jane's divorce lawyer and asking for a meeting, preferably, but unlikely without both their clients present. What would Jane be like, wasn't a question that she'd ever had to ask herself in the past? How would she and Harry react to seeing each other after such a long time, would he kiss her? She turned over and pummelled her pillow to a pulp, berating herself for the indecisive nature that overtook her reason, when it came to the personal side of her sad unfulfilled self.

* * *

'I'm pleased to say that Harry's looking a lot more cheerful this morning,' Malcolm said to Adam, who'd popped his head around the door of the technical suite with a cheerful good morning, before heading for his meeting with his boss.

'Probably a lot to do with your friend Ruth, who I've met by the way, in fact Harry was with her,' said Adam conspiratorially, pulling up a seat, relieved that there was someone else other than Fiona who was over at six that he knew he could trust when it came to discussing what he'd witnessed.

'She's lovely, isn't she?' he said to Adam who was grinning at him from ear to ear, obviously with something more to tell him about Harry's latest meeting with Ruth.

'In a meeting, absolutely not Malcolm, this was on Saturday afternoon on Hampstead Heath and Harry was pushing the pram.'

'Pram?' queried an increasingly confused Malcolm as Adam's grin broadened, telling him that in contrast to popular belief, Harry appeared to be able to enjoy himself and function away from the grid.

'What are you suggesting, that they weren't discussing his divorce?' Malcolm asked him.

'Nothing you need to worry about Malcolm, they'll be fine as long as Juliet doesn't hear about this,' and Malcolm was immediately into the realms of worrying, not only about whether he'd done the right thing by pushing Harry in Ruth's direction, but also about involving Ruth in the ghastly Juliet scenario. She scared the hell out of him and she'd eat Ruth alive if they ever crossed paths, perhaps he ought to ring Ruth and ask her if she was alright or apologise. On the other hand, he wasn't really in the business of interfering, so best leave it to Adam and Harry to deal with it.

Harry appeared to be working which was a good sign Adam thought, as he left Malcolm to his concerns and approached Harry's office, to be greeted by a cheery good morning and a cup of decent coffee that Harry'd brought him from the coffee wagon he visited on his way into work.

'I can't afford to take any chances, so I want you to listen in on my meeting with Juliet,' Harry told him, going on to say that based on a discussion he'd had with Ruth, he'd come to the decision to give Juliet what she wanted, until such a time that he'd had a chance to speak his children, after which he and Adam would take back the reins.

'Are you sure this is going to work Harry, Juliet's not an idiot and she'll not be expecting you to give up without a fight?'

'Which is why I want you as insurance, should she backtrack on any agreement, in which case I'll kill her.'

Adam didn't doubt it, but he'd picked up on Harry's comment that his decision was based on a conversation that he'd had with Ruth and that gave him the opening he'd been hoping for.

'Speaking of Ruth, Wes sent you a message Harry. He said I had to tell you that he liked her,' resulted in a brief softening in Harry's eyes.

'Your son is getting far too big for his boots Adam. Would you please ask young Wesley to keep his opinions to himself, for the moment at least.'

'I'll make sure I tell him,' Adam told his boss, with a barely controlled smile.

* * *

As far away from Thames House as possible, had been Harry's only stipulation when he'd rung Juliet and told her that he'd come to a decision and wanted to talk to her. He'd crossed the river and done what for him was virtually unheard of, he'd taken a series of buses until he'd reached Greenwich. How she got there he didn't much care, he wanted this over and done with so that he could get on with his life without forever looking over his shoulder. As he approached the bench where she was sitting, he wondered what it was about her that had ever attracted him, because she certainly didn't now. She'd always been bloody ruthless but then so had he, but he had a humanity and a sense of reason about what he did, with no thought as to the cost to himself, which she'd never had. Self-obsessed to the point of ignoring any advice, no matter where it came from, even more so if he paved the way to her promotion which he was going to do. Still needs must, he had Adam listening in.

'Harry dear you're looking tired,' she said, attempting to reach up and touch his face as he recoiled away from her.

'We're not here to discuss my health Juliet, just for me to tell you that you've got what you wanted. If I'm asked whether I'll back you for the job, then they'll get a resounding yes, but it comes with conditions on your part, which if you break will leave me with only one option and I think we both know what that is?'

'Are you daring to threaten me?'

'Tables turned Juliet because I don't care what happens to me, what I do care about are my children. You dig a very deep hole and bury what happened between us, you stay away from my children and then you can have what you want.'

'What about the lovely Jane?' was below the belt and Adam took a deep breath. He needn't have worried.

'Jane's always known what happened, because I told her Juliet, and as hard as it may be for you to understand, she knew even back then that I loved my children and would never have ignored a call from my son.'

'Well you were always a crap shag Harry, I don't know why I bothered, I bet you can't even get it up now can you?' Had Harry almost rising to the bait, tempted to say go fuck yourself Juliet, until a vision of Ruth's sweet face made him hold back. He was home and dry as far as he was concerned and Juliet could go live in her ivory tower on the sixth floor. He and Adam would deal with her later. Now though, he had no intention of letting her have the final word.

'My memory and my hair may both be reseeding far faster than I would like them to Juliet, but dropping my trousers in a public place to prove that you're wrong, would in all probability get me arrested and in your case Juliet, be a surprise that I doubt at your age you'd be able to cope with,' he told her, walking away with his dignity intact and leaving Adam with a big grin on his face. Harry certainly had some cracking lines, he intended remembering that one.

* * *

Ruth was in the middle of preparing her evening meal when the phone rang.

'I've spoken to Juliet,' he told her without introduction and then said that he hoped that he hadn't disturbed her, but he needed to see her.

'No of course not,' she replied, turning off the hob and putting to one side the ingredients for the omelette that she was about to start cooking, wondering if she had sufficient that would allow her to make one large enough for two. She'd spent the best part of ten years managing to avoid kids and a kitchen and in the space of one week, she agreed to have Jacob on a more regular basis and now feed Harry it seemed. Still, after what she perceived to have been her weakness, she'd been longing to see him again and anxiously waiting to hear how things had progressed or not with Juliet. Added to which, having been in contact with Jane's solicitor, she had news for him as well.

'Sorry about dropping in on you like this,' he said, offering her one of the bottles of wine that he'd brought on his way home, partly as a peace offering and partly in the hope that perhaps he might persuade her to visit him at some time sooner rather than later. 'I won't be able to get out of the office tomorrow and well ringing you didn't seem appropriate given the circumstances,' he continued, as he followed her down the hall and into the kitchen for his third meal in as many days.

'You're here again in my house so stop prevaricating Harry. I can't begin to understand what it is you do in your working life, but that's not what's important is it? You obviously wanted to see me and if I hadn't wanted to see you, then I'd have said no.'

 _But that's not what's important is it?_ and suddenly it was. Him pursuing a relationship with Ruth was breaking every rule that he'd drummed into his staff over the years, but more than that, she was an innocent that he'd almost dragged into his world that was ravaged by darkness and grief. He'd been distracted by a woman far too young for him, taken his eye off the ball, pulled along on a tide of expectation when he should have known better, and in a moment when all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold her, he knew that he had to end it.

'If you lay the table Harry and pour me a glass of that wine, the cutlery and the corkscrew are in there,' she told him, pointing to the drawer next to the sink, 'I'll see if I can cope with rustling up two omelettes that resemble something edible.'

Reigning in his overwhelming urge to ignore what he'd decided and instead step forward and put his arms around her waist and bury his head in her hair, he took a deep breath and then in a voice that didn't belong to him, he spoke.

'Ruth stop, you have to listen to me, we can't do this anymore. As always this is entirely my fault and I'm sorry, but I need to go.

'I have no idea what you're talking about Harry, at least sit down?' she asked him.

'What you said just now, that you couldn't begin to imagine what I do in my working life. You're right you can't and the problem is that I'll never be able to tell you. If we were to continue to see each other it would eventually come between us, I've seen it far too many times. I've been indulging myself Ruth about something that can never happen and for that I'm truly sorry.'

'But that's ridiculous Harry I'm your solicitor,' drifted on a wind of confusion, as the door closed behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

Ruth stood in the hallway and watched the door close behind him, with a mixture of confusion and a deep sadness engulfing her. In one single sentence when she'd set out to convince him that it didn't matter to her that he was a spook, she succeeded in driving him away. That she'd lost him as a client was bad enough, considering the rapidly depleting state of her finances, but that she'd lost him as a man felt ten times worse. He'd made all the moves hadn't he? Without actually putting it into words, he'd encouraged her to believe that once his divorce had been finalised that they'd be more to each than just a solicitor and client, and now what? The house had come to life in the week that he'd been coming there, their day with Jacob had been lovely and now with barely a look back she'd been cast aside . She'd waited a long time for someone to walk into her life that could make her feel the way that Harry did. His smile, his eyes, his gentle and well - educated voice. Their shared interest in music and the rare books that she'd collected over the years. Spook or not, his interest in her was genuine, she was sure about that. Screaming wasn't going to solve anything but she did it anyway, relieving the pressure cooker of emotions that were building inside her. She'd done what she'd told herself that she'd never do, she'd fallen for someone. But this wasn't just anyone, this was Harry. Warts and all he was special, and she wasn't about to give him up without a fight.

Had she called him at that moment, then Harry would have turned the car around from where he was parked at the end of her road and driven back. Instead of which, as Ruth attempted to eat the omelette rather than plaster the walls of her kitchen with it, he restarted the car and paused before putting it into gear and driving away. He was heading towards home to what he knew would be a resounding welcome from Scarlet before another long evening and even longer night, spent rattling around in his empty house alone. But tonight home didn't appeal, so he did what he always did when he needed time to think, he drove in the direction of the river and parked no more than a mile from Thames House. As he lent against the river wall and gazed into its unfathomable depths, he barely saw the lights that were sparkling on the water. He could and should have handled this better, given her a proper explanation rather than the well - practised platitudes that he'd reeled off numerous times over the years. Ruth was worth more than that and he'd balls it up as usual. As he tried to concentrate on something less morbid than what it might feel like to throw himself in and how cold the water might be, which knowing his luck would see him plastered across the front pages of the tabloids, he smiled, indulging himself for the moment that he still had modicum of a sense of humour. What was it that Ruth had said? Something about having arranged a meeting with Jane's solicitor the day after tomorrow, needing to know how his meeting with Juliet had panned out, and being his solicitor had been her last words. How on earth was that going to work after what he'd said? He needed to calm himself and the only way to do that was to have a drink. His younger self would have sought out a bar and a faceless woman to bury himself in, but Juliet was right in one respect at least, he was tired and way beyond going in search of an easy pick up. Ruth Evershed had got under his skin and she wasn't just an itch that he needed to scratch. Without any effort, she'd burrowed her way into not only his head but his heart and Adam had seen it, he felt sure. Turning the car around and going back to her wasn't an option for this evening, he needed to think this through with a clear head and hope that by the time he called her in the morning, that she hadn't put his file in the shredder and moved onto her next client.

* * *

It was Fiona who answered the phone.

'Adam's doing the washing up and Wes is asleep and yes of course you can come over, providing that you don't need to talk to me because I'm just heading off to bed,' she told Harry tactfully, when he called and said that he was less than ten minutes away and could he call in to see them because he needed to talk to someone.

'I'll head on up,' she said to Adam, giving him a peck on the cheek and a look that said try not to be too long, as they heard Harry's car door close and Adam reached for the whisky. This wasn't the first time by any means that he'd been to their house. He was Wes's Uncle Harry in every sense of the word and as far as Wes was concerned, Harry walked on water and could do no wrong. The innocence of a child they'd once said ruefully, during a conversation that they'd all shared at a time when Fiona had been doubting her commitment to the cause and the merits or otherwise of her and Adam having a child. Harry had been the voice of reason on that night and smoothed things over between them, after which he and Adam had become as close as it came to having a friend. Adam was well aware that if Harry was in trouble or needed to unburden himself, then there was no one else that he could turn too. A sad but real reflection of the loneliness that walked hand in hand with his boss.

He passed Harry his glass and waited, watching as Harry'd threw back a more than generous amount, before in Harry's mind he admitted what he'd done.

Idiot thought Adam, although if Harry's body language matched what he was thinking, then saying so wasn't the best option.

'Doubts are healthy Harry, they make us question our decisions, so yes you were wise to take a step back, but walking away as though she didn't matter, what on earth were you thinking?'

'I suspect that I wasn't thinking at all, well certainly not about the consequences of what I was doing,' was an answer directed to the floor.

'Then put it right, before it's too late. Yes, it might be difficult having a relationship in our profession at whatever level, but isn't unattainable for heaven's sake, otherwise none of us in the service would be partnered or have children. I saw you on Saturday Harry or have you forgotten that as well? You were happy, so was Ruth, it was so bloody obvious that she means more to you than just your solicitor,' made perfect sense to Adam, but this was Harry.

'You make it sound so simple, but it's not that easy, if that's what you're implying Adam,' was barely audible.

Adam wasn't implying anything, he was struggling to understand what was holding Harry back, when he'd torn Juliet to bits about the selfsame subject. But maybe that was it. Maybe Juliet was right and Harry couldn't? No that was impossible surely, but he could hardly ask. The only other and more plausible option was that Harry had fallen hook line and sinker for Ruth, which to Adam was the best news he'd had in years, whereas his work obsessed boss would be weighing up the implications as to where a relationship with her might lead, and more so because Ruth didn't work for the service. In which case it was game on and he just had to find the right words. Deciding to plump for the second option he ploughed on.

'I'm not implying anything Harry, but have you even considered that Ruth might feel exactly the same as you do and be prepared to take that risk? We have the resources to protect her Harry, more so now than we ever did. Unless you put this right now you'll lose her I guarantee it, is that really what you want? ' Sounded harsh even to Adam, but he was determined to make Harry face up to the alternative. 'You have to move past this ridiculous indecision Harry, why don't you just ring her?' he suggested.

'She might be asleep,' and Adam was back to contemplating shaking Harry. But what was the point in that? He settled on humour.

'Yes and you might be swimming fully clothed in front of half the country's media, but you're not. For God's sake Harry just listen to yourself. It's nine o'clock in the evening, you're roaming the streets in search of something that's right under your nose and do you seriously expect her to not answer her phone when she sees it's you whose calling her?'

Harry could. Adam hadn't seen the look of disbelief and hurt on Ruth's face when he'd told her that he had to go.

'She can be quite feisty,' he told him in his defence.

'Well then lucky old you,' said Adam with a grin, relieved that Harry had at last used a word that meant something, deciding that a strong cup of coffee was a wiser option than another glass of whisky, if Harry could be persuaded to ring Ruth. 'By the way, Wes has revised his opinion of Ruth, he thinks she's lovely,' he told him, as he headed in the direction of the kitchen, pondering the naivety with which his worldly - wise boss approached his out of work life, and in particular women. Adam knew how old Harry was and if he'd been lucky enough to find someone who cared for him enough to have spent the best part of a week with him, when he'd possibly spent god knows how many years on his own, then pursuing a relationship with Ruth, had to be risk worth taking. He just needed to be sure that he was completely sober before he bundled him back into his car.

* * *

Whilst Harry and Adam had been enjoying the whisky and Adam making the most of this opportunity to try and convince Harry to get himself out of the rut, Ruth was taking a different path to oblivion, by frantically scribbling notes at the rate of knots. She'd avoided opening the bottle of wine that Harry had brought with him and had managed to school her thoughts towards the meeting that was or maybe wasn't going to take place with Jane's solicitor, and how she was going to advise Harry that they should approach it. Divorce was rarely straightforward, but the fact that Jane had found herself another partner and wanted a divorce, to which Harry had agreed, should pave the way to an easy transition. Unless and she really hoped that this wasn't the case, that Harry had lied to her about Jane knowing that he'd been between the sheets with Juliet Shaw when Graham had rung him. Because if he had, then all hell would break loose and it wouldn't only be Jane that was lighting the bonfire and setting fire to his trousers, she'd help her. It was a conversation that she needed to have with him before the meeting. She needed to be absolutely sure and with the meeting two days away, that meant it had to be tomorrow. It was only nine o'clock but what the hell she was tired and there wasn't anything that couldn't wait until the morning, so she turned off her phone and headed upstairs to bed.

* * *

In her sumptuous flat on the opposite side of the river, Juliet Shaw was suffering in silence as the weasel faced Jason Belling sat across the room from her enjoying a glass of the cheap wine that she'd invested in on her way home. Cheap as in him, she'd thought to herself, as she poured him another glass and re iterated what would happen to him if he let her down.

'It's not only your balls that you'll need to be worried about Jason, do you understand me?' She told him, watching him squirm and a flicker of uncertainty cross his face. The power that she had over men was extraordinary, stirring the same instinct as it had when she'd bedded Harry all those years ago, only to be rejected because of his sodding loyalty to his children. 'I want his every move watched and keep an eye on Adam Carter as well, I don't trust him an inch when it comes to protecting Harry. Do you think you're up to that small task?' She asked him, crossing her legs provocatively and in as suggestive a voice as she could muster, without actually being sick.

'Absolutely,' the weasel grinned back, his eyes drawn to her legs and seeing not only his payroll in terms of his rise up the ranks in the security services increasing by the minute, should Juliet be sitting in the hot seat on the top floor at six, which was apparently an absolute certainty.

'You do this on your own, you tell nobody and you report back to me on a regular basis do you understand?' She told him, handing him a phone that she'd already primed with her number. 'If you get caught, then you're on your own, so watch your back, they're slippery little buggers over the river. Harry's up to something I'm sure of it and I need you to find out what it is. Go through his dirty washing if you need to, you do know where he lives and how to pick a lock I presume? A little phone tapping wouldn't go amiss either,' she added, as his face spread into a reptilian grin. 'You rub my back and I'll rub yours,' at which point Jason's imagination revisited the top of Juliet's thighs and beyond, only to be halted by Juliet's next words. 'Right off you go now, go home and play with yourself and I'll expect to hear from you tomorrow.'

Desperate times called for desperate measures, Jason wouldn't dare squeal she knew that, as she stood at her window and watched him cross the road. This was her time. She'd instigated her way back in and she meant to make it count. It was a shame really that Harry would be made to suffer, because he'd actually been the best that she'd had when it came to a romp in the sack. It was just a pity that it hadn't been more than one time, although who knows, if she played her cards right before the shit really hit the fan, despite what he'd said, he still might be up for a bit of out of hours entertainment. A delicious and image provoking prospect that had her needing to satisfy herself.


	8. Chapter 8

Ruth left home early, anticipating another busy but peaceful day, preparing herself for their meeting with Jane's solicitor the following afternoon. It wasn't until she reached the centre of the bridge that she remembered that the recently absent Susie might be back, which unless she'd pulled herself together and was ready to get back to the serious business of work, would only add to her problems. Whereas a productive Susie was more than capable of sifting through the credentials of the applicants that she'd earmarked as potential replacements for Alex, which would at least allow her to plough on with her most pressing of cases, namely the Pearce divorce.

'There's a client that I don't recognise in your office, he said you'd be expecting him,' Susie told her, the moment that Ruth walked through the door, her quiet day already interrupted and Ruth fully aware or at least hoping that she knew who it was.

'It's good to have you back Susie, could you rustle us up some coffee and then check these?' Ruth asked her in a calm and collected voice, with no indication as to how Susie's statement had made her feel. So, he was here without her having to chase him, the relief that she felt was enormous.

The moment that she opened the door and walked in Harry stood up. It wasn't that she hadn't expected him to do it, but none the less it still took her a little by surprise. His expression said I'm sorry and his body language said perhaps I should go, but he did neither, he just stood there looking at her, until as though he'd only just remembered, he fished an envelope out of his coat pocket.

'I've been _persuaded_ that my decision to walk away from you was unwise on _both_ counts,' was said quietly, 'but I still need you to read this and come to your own conclusion,' he told her, proffering the envelope that had taken on the proportions of a bomb in Harry's mind. He'd been into Thames House long before even the birds had woken up and had taken a copy of his record at five, as far back as when he'd been in Northern Ireland. Risky certainly, but then if he was going to retain Ruth as his solicitor and hopefully more, then as Adam had said, it had to be a risk worth taking.

 _Persuaded, had he just said persuaded? What a very Harry expression._ Tempted to say by whom, which would probably see him fleeing rather than staying where he was, Ruth stayed silent.

Slow motion taking on a whole new meaning in Harry's mind, he watched Ruth walk across the room and hang up her coat, before slowly returning to her desk. Whatever she was feeling, she was making a damn good job of hiding it.

'But this is highly classified information Harry, surely you're breaking the rules by showing me this?' Finally broke the silence, as she cast an eye over the first few lines of what appeared to be explicit extracts from his personal file.

'Yes but you're my solicitor Ruth and bound by the same confidentiality as I am and I'm asking you to read it.' At which point any further conversation was halted as they were interrupted by the arrival of Susie with the coffee and Harry joined Ruth who had decided that she needed to sit rather than fall down.

'That's fine Susie, we'll manage,' then 'thank you,' she added as an afterthought, realising that she'd sounded a bit too dismissive, as Harry's troubled eyes continued to bore into hers, before the door closed behind Susie.

'I am truly sorry about the way I behaved yesterday evening, but I panicked,' he continued. 'Incidentally, I stopped panicking by the time that I got to the end of your road and nearly came back,' was his attempt at a further apology. Better she thought. But Ruth the solicitor was a totally different person to the Ruth that lived at home and in this particular instance she was _his_ solicitor. This was where she coped and she needed more than I nearly came back.

'But you didn't Harry,' and it was back to him to keep the conversation flowing.

'Which was a mistake which won't happen again,' he told her, not knowing that with those few words that Ruth's inner self had relaxed.

He so wanted to stay but he knew that he couldn't. 'I've got a heavy workload to get through today and I'm already late for a meeting, may I call you later?' He asked her, already on his feet and reaching for his coat, feeling as though his whole life lay in that single response.

She'd seen the four missed calls when she'd switched her phone back on that morning. 'I'll leave my phone on this time and I'll shred this once I've read it,' had him turning around and nodding, as he opened the door to leave.

'I'll be home by six,' she called after him in her Ruth at home voice.

'That's good, six it is then,' and he was gone.

Ruth didn't see the smile on his face or he hers.

* * *

'Have I missed anything of significance?' Harry asked the members of the JIC, having made a halfhearted apology for being late before sitting down. The fact that Juliet was there, looking as though she was the cat who'd got the cream was all he needed, in a meeting that he knew he'd be able to minute even if he fell asleep.

'We've invited Juliet in her new roll as Chief Security Coordinator,' the chairman and another one of Harry's deep - seated dislikes, Oliver Mace told him. 'I've been led to believe that you have no objection to her appointment Harry?' Was an unnecessary question that Harry wasn't in the mood for hearing or intended answering, such was the innuendo in Mace's voice. He knew full well that his one - time fling with Juliet hadn't been kept under wraps and that the snake like Mace had added it to his arsenal to be used at a time such as this.

There was more than one clearing of a throat as Harry poured himself a glass of water and glanced around the table at the various hypocrites who were daring to judge him, raking in money when they should have been put out to grass years ago and with more skeleton's in their cupboards than the vaults at Westminster Abbey. Knowledge was power and Harry had a memory that was as sharp as a razor when it came snippets of information that had inadvertently been leaked at one club or another, on evenings when someone had drunk far too much whisky. His insurance policy should he need it, was well and truly paid up when it came to these bastards.

'Moving on,' said Mace when Harry failed to reply but appeared to be listening, when in truth he'd shut down, his mind reverting to Ruth and how different the start of his day could have been, if he hadn't been forced to spend at least an hour of his valuable time around a table of old buffers, before he headed back to Thames House and got on with some real work.

* * *

'Chicken salad or cheese and tomato?' asked Susie, passing Ruth the list of the candidates, that she'd so far managed to contact and tell that they were on the short list, as Ruth closed the cover on the Pearce divorce file and Harry's life in MI5, that she'd been pouring over for the last hour. 'Lunch?' said Susie again, pointing at her watch and indicating that she was just about to pop out and get herself a sandwich. Like Ruth, Susie lived alone although their relationship had never crossed the boundary into a real friendship. Susie spent her spare time with whoever was her current boyfriend, one or two of which Ruth had met when they'd rocked up at the end of the working day to take Susie, to where, Ruth had never been interested or enquired. But the situation had changed, Alex was gone and Ruth needed Susie to step up and really pull her weight and that wasn't likely to happen without some gentle persuasion.

'Either, or whatever else they've got with salad and we'll have our lunch in here,' Ruth told her, taking her back to the day when Alex had died. It was Susie who had answered the call from Alex's friend and Ruth had been so shocked at the time that she'd agreed with Susie's request to go home without giving it too much thought. But it was something that they needed to talk about and if they left it beyond today then it would only get harder. She was the grown up here or supposed to be, besides which she needed to take a break and to clear her head.

'Who's our new client, he looked nice?' Susie asked her, standing her ground and changing the subject from the mundane to the potentially enlightening, if her boss didn't flounder. She'd seen the expressions on both their faces, their eyes locked together when she'd barged in with the coffees without knocking.

'He's called Harry Pearce,' Ruth told her, there was no point in lying. Susie was the person who typed up and registered all the files, although it wasn't until this moment that Ruth realised that there would be information in there that would be more than sensitive, it would be bloody dynamite if Susie read anything more into it than just another divorce case and passed it on. She'd never done it before over the two years that she'd worked for her and Alex and she just hoped that she could trust her when it came to Harry. If she couldn't, then her previous promise to Susie that her job was safe would be short lived.

'You'll have to hold the fort tomorrow afternoon,' she told her. 'We're having a meeting with his wife and her solicitor and I'll probably go straight home once that's finished,' and Susie schooled her expression. Wow this just got better and better. Ruth normally lived at the office.

On the other side of the road, Jason was enjoying himself, despite the fact that Harry had left home at silly o'clock. He'd followed Juliet's instructions to the letter and had managed to remain unobserved and follow Harry at a discreet distance. Lurking, or as he saw it observing from a café, he'd watched him enter Harrison and Evershed Solicitors. Knowing that when Harry left fifteen minutes later that he'd be heading to a meeting with the JIC, he ordered another coffee in the hope of seeing someone that worked there and maybe have a casual word. A twice read from front to back copy of London Weekly, four cups of coffee and two trips to the gents later, what in his mind was a piece of skirt that had him licking his lips, he watched Susie cross the road and head into a sandwich bar, exiting a few minutes later with two packets of sandwiches. Tasty he thought, his eyes firmly fixed on Susie's legs and the fact that Juliet was the reason that he was there, temporarily forgotten.

Had Adam or more importantly Harry seen Jason or known what was going through his mind, he'd have been swimming with the fishes, but as it was they didn't, so he was at liberty to sit there and indulge his fantasy whilst he pondered what he did next. He could hardly ring Juliet she'd be in the meeting, but at least he could saunter past the building from which Harry had exited and the skirt had re entered and try and get a few pointers to report back to his new boss.

* * *

Harry always felt better once he found himself within the confines of Thames House. It was safe, it was where he belonged, it was where he had a purpose. He'd walked back from his meeting with the JIC, knowing that Adam would be there and would want to buttonhole him as to whether he'd taken his advice. He'd done better than that, he'd seen her and there was a swagger in his step as he exited the pods and headed towards his office.

'Zafar Younis, sir,' said a voice from behind him as he hung up his coat and picked up the note from Adam, telling him that he was in the meeting room.

'Harry, Harry's fine,' he told his latest recruit that he'd completely forgotten was arriving that morning. 'A much - needed additional field officer at last,' he told Zafar.

'Yes, and I prefer Zaf,' said the young man shaking Harry's hand, only to be interrupted by Malcolm telling him that he was needed urgently.

Clive Mc Taggert, one of Harry's oldest friends had taken his own life, were the only words that Harry heard, as he stared at the TV screen and felt the blood drain from his face. It was impossible, he'd talked to him as recently as a month ago and although his cancer was spreading, the pain was still at a controllable rate with the drugs that they were giving him. He had two young grandchildren for Christ's sake and Harry knew without a doubt that he would never have willingly subjected them to this memory.

It had started, exactly as he had told Ruth it would, the relentless barrage of unwanted surprises that he'd have to keep to himself. He'd have to cancel this evening on the pretext that it was something mundane, but that he had to work. Would it ever stop, this conflict of interest that prevented him holding down anything that resembled a relationship?

The meeting room all but Adam had cleared without him realising it. He'd heard him dishing out instructions but little more.

'Thank you Adam, I need to make some calls,' he told him, all thought of anything other than finding out who had killed Clive, including Ruth, briefly gone.

'Absolutely not Harry, you were far too close to Clive. Please let me deal with this. One question though, is there any chance that Juliet might be involved?' Didn't need an answer, Harry's expression was sufficient. 'Then all the more reason for you to stay away Harry, let me see if I can poach Fiona from six, she'd be a real asset.'

'And what am I supposed to do, sit back and watch?'

'That's exactly what you need to do. Go to that meeting tomorrow, sort your life out Harry, watch your back and most importantly stay away from Juliet. She's lurking in the wings waiting to hang you out to dry Harry and I'm buggered if I'm going to let that happen.'

'You have to keep me updated Adam.'

'Every step of the way, I promise.'

'Then if I'm not at home, this is where you can find me,' he told him, scribbling down Ruth's address.


	9. Chapter 9

From the moment that Harry left Thames House, he had an uncomfortable feeling that he was being followed. He managed to avoid Juliet purely by good luck, having used the stairs rather than the lift which appeared to be permanently stuck on the fourth floor. Ducking behind a pillar to avoid a confrontation, he was delayed even further, as he watched her crossing the foyer, chatting to the DG who was trotting alongside her like a pet dog. Was there anyone amongst the hierarchy that he actually liked? No there wasn't and his comparison was a disservice to all four - legged creatures and to Scarlet in particular. As to who was following him he had no idea, but he needed to shake them off sooner rather than later and hope that he was faster and more adept at surveillance than they were. He switched on one of the two new phones that Malcolm had given him. 'In the circumstances I suggest that you and Ruth use these,' he'd told him, with just the hint of a warning in his eyes.

'I'm stuck in a meeting so I'll be a wee bit late, I'm sorry,' he told a relieved Ruth, who had been looking at the clock and wondering if Harry had changed his mind. Turning into the entrance of a large department store and disappearing through the food section to the checkouts that were heaving with people, he grabbed and paid for a small bunch of flowers. It was his go to shop that stayed open all night and he knew the layout like the back of his hand. Heading to the top floor and out through one of the many staff - only exits, he made an unseen departure via the fire escape and down into a back street, with nothing but a row of dustbins as his companions.

By the time that he knocked on Ruth's door, he was more than confident that he'd lost whoever it was that had been following him. Despite him knowing that the evening was in effect a meeting to discuss what would happen the following afternoon when he'd come face to face with Jane, he was determined to ensure that Ruth understood that his decision to walk away from her the previous evening had been purely work related, and had no bearing on how his feelings had developed for her.

Opening her door to greet him, a freshly showered Ruth, wearing a loosely fitting jumper with black trousers and in sock clad feet, beamed at him when he handed over his meagre offering, screaming of home comforts, of normal, of what he'd craved for years, if only it could last.

'You didn't open it,' he said surprised, when she handed him the same bottle of wine that he'd brought with him the previous evening. If it had been her that had walked out on him, then he'd have either thrown it against the wall or more likely drunk it. Ruth hadn't done either, so maybe he hadn't completely blown it.

'Yes, and you're getting the omelette that you didn't eat,' she joked, as he wondered how it was that she always managed to have the last word. The answer was simple, she didn't work at five, she was his equal, they matched and he gloried in the prospect of where this might lead.

He knew where the corkscrew was, she'd told him which drawer it was in the previous evening, so he stepped across in front of her, fully intent on opening the bottle. That it coincided with her trying to bypass him to reach over and retrieve her oven gloves, which resulted in them standing face to face within inches of each other with their bodies almost touching, was suddenly all too much for Harry. The news about Clive had shaken him more than he realised and if there was one moment in his life that he needed to feel the closeness of another human being, it was now and it was her, and against all the odds she hadn't moved. She was wearing the same perfume that had assaulted his senses on the evening that he'd taken her out, tempting him across the finishing line. He could hear Adam's words, _you're roaming the streets of London when what you want is right under your nose_ as with no further thought he lent even closer, his lips within inches of hers. By now Ruth had closed her eyes but she still hadn't moved, the rhythm of her breathing mirroring his. That had to be a good sign didn't it?

Gently praying that he hadn't misread the signs and that the next thing he'd feel, wouldn't be her hand, slapping him across his face and a dismissal that he knew there would be no way back from, he gave way to temptation.

'I work in a job that's nothing but secrets,' he whispered.

'And you think that I don't, I'm a divorce lawyer Harry,' she whispered back, beating him to it with a gentle brush of her lips against his.

Had it not been for Fidget arriving and demanding to be fed, Harry doubted that he'd have been able to control himself, whereas Ruth who now had Fidget's tale, warm, demanding and flicking between her legs, was at crisis point. She didn't dare open her eyes in case they revealed what she was really thinking, which had gone far beyond her initial thought that Harry's lips had surely been made by the gods she so admired, to a quick sprint to the bedroom. It was only when her stomach started rumbling that she pulled back and opened her eyes, only to see his were still closed and realised that his hands had moved to her hips. How the hell she was going to be able to sit in a meeting the next day and negotiate the terms of his divorce with his soon to be ex – wife and her solicitor and remain unmoved by anything she heard, was the only thing that prevented her from kissing him again. Harry had called to see her this evening because she'd told him that she had more questions, nothing more, she couldn't let herself cross that boundary yet. But before she did anything else, she needed that glass of wine.

Harry had no such worries, he was on the stairway to heaven. All he had to do was to agree with everything that Ruth said, she told him, as they smiled their way through the vegetable pasta and salad and a very acceptable bottle of wine. Clive's death would be avenged, this evening he was doing something that amounted to wonderful.

'I have something for you,' he told Ruth, handing her the phone that Malcolm had given him. They were heading back to her cosy sitting room with a pot of coffee and her book full of notes, her composure for the moment back in place. 'It has only one number which is mine, it's best that you use it when you need to contact me.'

She was about to ask him why when she thought better of it. There would be time for in depth talking about his life as a spy at another time, for now she needed to concentrate on the job in hand.

'Jane's solicitor is Robin Adams, I've known him for a long time. He's assured me that unless anything unexpected comes up at the meeting tomorrow that you and Jane can't agree on, then your divorce will be just a formality. Is there anything that's still worrying you Harry?' She asked him.

'That I might put my foot in it as I tend to do,' referred to more than him meeting Jane again after such a long time.

'Then after the introductions just follow my lead and whatever happens we'll be fine,' meant what? Was she referring to the meeting or to them? He hoped it was both.

'I ought to be going,' he added as the silence lengthened and Ruth nodded and stood up, as unwilling as he was for the evening to end.

Just one kiss, one solitary kiss, would be enough for him to hold on to the memory of the evening and get him through the night.

'See you tomorrow then,' he whispered, leaning in.

* * *

The floor to ceiling windows that made up one wall of the offices where Robin Adams sat waiting with Jane Townsend and the accompanying Harvey, was approached by a sweeping staircase or in Harry and Ruth's case the lift. Exiting on the top floor, a receptionist directed them to a seating area at the end of a long corridor. It had been years, well over a decade since Harry had seen Jane, and memories tended to play tricks on you under stress. Despite the years that had passed, he would have recognised her anywhere and a small pang of regret for the pain he'd once put her through, battled with his composure as the introductions were made. She looked well, she looked happy if somewhat nervous and she was clearly glued to Harvey high and bloody mighty, just as Catherine had told him she was. As Robin ushered them into his office, he asked Harvey to wait outside, something that gave Harry a ridiculously over the top sense of triumph. It might be the end of an era, but at least it could be done in a civilised manner, without him having to be watched by the man who was so clearly able to give Jane what he hadn't. His thoughts were immediately interrupted by Robin inviting him and Ruth to take a seat on the opposite side of a large table.

'Remember what I said Harry, play nice,' Ruth reminded him in hushed tones, her composure seemingly fully in place, whereas her stomach was turning cartwheels, as she looked across the table at the woman who was the mother of Harry's children. She was blonde with tiny flecks of grey, taller and so much more sylphlike than she'd ever be, that for a moment made her wonder if the kisses that she and Harry had shared the previous evening were just a figment of her imagination. They weren't, were confirmed when she turned back to look at him and saw the concerned look on his face, because she'd failed to answer the question that Robin had put to her. It wasn't something that went unnoticed by Jane.

'Sorry, I'm just getting over a migraine,' she lied, when Robin asked if she needed anything. She did, she needed this to be over quickly, but she settled on tea and put her mind back to the reason they were there.

Once the formalities were over and having shaken everyone's hand, with the assurance that he'd register the papers formally and send her copies, Robin departed, leaving her and Harry in the corridor with Jane and Harvey. Knowing that it important to treat this like any other divorce that hadn't been contested, she did what she always did and suggested, to in this case Harvey, that they should leave Harry and Jane to say their goodbyes alone and that they'd see them downstairs. As soon as she'd said it, she realised her mistake. In any other circumstances she'd had shaken her client's hand and said she be in touch, but she hadn't she'd been distracted. Not that it mattered now that the papers had been signed, but none the less if she'd noticed, she'd left an opening for a comment from Jane.

Harvey had excused himself to go to the bathroom, which left Ruth standing on her own when Harry and Jane arrived. Her with a look of deep satisfaction on her face and Harry with a look that said don't worry, I'll deal with this.

'Harvey's going back to work aren't you dear,' Jane told him as Harvey appeared, in a voice that sounded more like an order than the fact that he needed to, having already suggested to Harry that maybe he and Ruth might like to go for a drink with her, which despite Harry's protest that he needed to get back to work, to which Jane had replied when don't you, he'd reluctantly agreed.

Ruth still protesting that she had a headache told Harry that she'd rather have a cup of tea, watching as he headed to the bar to order their drinks in what was a rather nice pub, which apparently Jane and Harvey frequented on a regular basis. Jane had excused herself and had gone to the ladies and not wanting to be faced with Jane on her own, Ruth was willing Harry to be quick and get back from the bar before Jane did. For one thing she needed to know what if anything he'd told Jane.

Harry arriving with her tea allowed her to occupy her now fidgety fingers, just ahead of Jane's return, which also gave him the chance to grab a seat that saw him facing both women.

'There's a situation at work which means that I can't stay long,' Harry told Jane, in the hope of an early escape, which was news to Ruth who he'd assured that once the divorce papers were signed and being processed, that he had the rest of the afternoon off and he had plans for them to do something.

Jane no longer had an axe to grind with Harry and she had long since worried about what he got up to at work, providing that it didn't impact on their children. She was there purely and simply to wind him up and get an insight into his solicitor that he was so obviously sweet on. It seemed highly unlikely that his feelings were reciprocated, but hey ho it was worth a dig or two. She knew that Catherine had been badgering him to sort himself out, but she doubted that her nearly ex husband had told their daughter about Ruth.

'I'm assuming that Harry's told you what he does for a living?' was below the belt even from Jane, as Harry's hackles rose and his eyes took on a look of murderous proportions.

As Jane's face broke into a broad smile, Ruth just stopped herself from saying that Harry had told her everything. Jane was playing a game and Harry was the victim, which meant she had to be careful not defend Harry and hand Jane even more ammunition.

'He's obliged to,' she answered, 'I'm his solicitor,' she told Jane, in a voice that she hoped sounded convincing.

'Well that's more than he did with me,' and Ruth decided that she quite liked Jane Townsend, particularly when she went on to tell her that Harry hadn't told her that he worked for the Security Services until after they'd signed the register.

It was one nil to her, even though she'd had to force it out of him, but Jane wasn't finished yet. Polishing off the second glass of wine that Harry had paid for, she lent in and smiled.

'I see you've taken Catherine's advice and not before time,' she told an embarrassed Harry and an even more confused Ruth, before with a wave of a hand and 'have fun you two,' she was off.

'Christ she's changed she was never that confident, I think I've caught your headache?' Harry told her, as the doors to the bar continued to swing back and forth at an alarming rate.

'I liked her, despite her succeeding in winding you up,' Ruth told him, watching his eyes widen and a response of 'women.'

'What now?' she asked him, hoping that he didn't have to go back to work.

'Dinner later,' he suggested, taking a deep breath of relief and with a barely controlled twinkle in his eye. Their destination already planned and booked.


	10. Chapter 10

He'd done what he'd never done before and had rung Adam to get his advice as to a restaurant that was elegant but not over stated, where they could celebrate the fact that his divorce papers were now signed, sealed and soon to be delivered. Adam had made no comment other than to congratulate him, when he suggested that The White Heart Hotel in Windsor, was somewhere that would fit nicely into what he suspected was his boss's intention of a romantic evening with Ruth. He and Fiona had been there years ago, when he'd been on a course which had coincided with her coming back from Syria and they'd ended up staying overnight, although he doubted that Harry would be brave enough to suggest that to Ruth.

'There's just one other thing that's bothering me,' Harry told him, after Adam refused to update him, on what if anything they'd discovered about Clive's murder. 'I think that I'm being followed and I'd like you to put Malcolm onto it. I'll leave my phone on in the car and I'd be grateful if he'd keep in touch with me.'

As he turned into Farringdon Road his phone rang, at the same time as his car navigation system indicated that he should be taking an alternative route.

'There's a large build-up of traffic due to an accident. If you turn left at the next traffic lights rather than going straight ahead, then you'll avoid it. After that it should be plain sailing,' Malcolm told him.

'Thanks Malcolm I will, stay onto it if you would please.'

If he was still being followed, then he was absolutely certain that it had nothing to do with Jane or their divorce, which left any number of people including Juliet. But why? It wasn't as though she had a quarrel to pick with him anymore, she'd got what she wanted, or at least she assumed that she had? Anything more sinister didn't bear thinking about, not when he was going to have precious cargo on board.

'It's somewhere different but equally quiet which I think you'll like,' he told Ruth, opening the car door for her and waiting until she'd adjusted her seat belt before closing it, now confident that the black sedan that had been on his tail since he'd left home, was conveniently stuck in traffic. 'It's one of the many boring things that Malcolm and his staff have to do, just in case they're contrived. It's not supposed to be used in personal situations, but I asked him to let me know if we'd be likely to get held up,' answered her question, when after another ten minutes, his phone rang again and Malcolm told him that the blocked road had seen a lot of the traffic diverted. At which point Harry promised himself that he'd tell Ruth the truth, if not this evening.

'Enjoy your evening and say hello to Ruth for me,' and Harry said he would. Hopefully on both counts wasn't voiced.

Following Malcolm's instructions, he negotiated the bottle necks where the evening traffic was queuing for access onto the converging motorways, which gave him the first real chance to look in his mirror and see what was behind him. It was a pointless exercise, because by then the light was beginning to fade and he could see no further than a couple of cars back. He needn't have worried, because a very frustrated Jason who had followed him from home, had lost sight of him long before he'd reached Ruth's house and had driven out of central London.

The last time that Ruth had been into a hotel, was when she'd stayed overnight after Alex and Sophie's wedding in Oxford, far grander than the one where Harry, now with his hand on her arm was guiding her towards the lounge. She'd been alone on that occasion and imagined that she had a huge sign on her forehead that had said 'so I'm on my own, stop staring' whereas now she felt completely different. This wasn't a duty that she had to perform, this was pure pleasure and she was determined to enjoy herself, reckless or not. The stress that Harry had displayed during the afternoon, as he glanced up and said thank you to the waiter who had delivered their menus and before dinner drinks was gone. The years had tumbled from him.

'Just the one,' he told her, as he lent forward and clinked his glass against hers. 'I've got to drive you home, remember.'

'Not necessarily,' was the second unspoken sentence of the evening, and it was only seven thirty.

Steeling herself to ask him one last question before she finally put aside the fact that she was still his solicitor, she counted to ten to regain her composure.

'When you told me that Jane had always known that you'd been with Juliet that evening, was it in the full sense of the word Harry?' She asked him, doing exactly the same as he'd done with Adam, by avoiding mentioning the word bed, sex or sleeping together, which didn't bode well for later, assuming that the evening would eventually see them needing to climb into or on top of the aforementioned piece of furniture.

'Hand on heart, it was. She went crazy of course, but there was never any doubt that she believed me,' and Ruth had the honest answer that she needed.

By the time they were eating their main course and Harry was pouring Ruth another glass of wine, he'd long since abandoned the idea of driving her home. Convinced that if he enjoyed a glass or two himself then it would help him relax and maybe be more forthright, and that a taxi, no matter what the cost, would be worth every penny, he'd joined his so called real world. Having been told by Ruth that she wasn't there as his solicitor that evening, to which he'd replied that's good, they'd avoided discussing anything that strayed even slightly into either of their jobs. As a consequence, their conversation which had been perilously teetering on the edge of the really personal for far too long and if one or the other of them didn't say something soon, that the staff would be laying the tables for breakfast, Harry took the plunge. Reminding Ruth that she'd been the one to kiss him first, to which she replied that there wasn't a woman alive that could resist a man who liked Thomas the Tank Engine, he was up and running, his engine well and truly stoked.

'Have you any idea how happy I feel when I'm with you?' he responded, running his thumb gently across the knuckles of her hand that had worked it's way across the table towards his, daring her to look away from him.

Ruth just nodded, the faintest hint of a doubt clouding her face. 'Is this ridiculous what we're doing, we hardly know each other Harry, what if it goes wrong?' Wasn't at all what he was expecting. She was here wasn't she, she was responding to his overtures and now what? It's what I witness every day when I go into work Harry, it's the reason that I've resisted getting involved with anyone, and then there's Alex and Sophie, look what happened to them.'

Refusing to let go of her hand, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn't that she didn't want to, she'd didn't know how to and Adam's you're rubbish at it Harry, really had to change, if only he could find the right words to reassure her.

'Cruel as that was, Alex's death was just fate taking a hand Ruth, you know that,' and she nodded. 'Setting that aside, just for a moment, I'll tell you what I did the other evening after I told you that _this_ was a mistake,' he told her, his thumb continuing to draw sensuous patterns across the top of her hand and causing the desired havoc in Ruth's breathing. 'I couldn't face going home, so I went to see Adam and he told me a few home truths. 'He said that I was roaming the streets, which I had been by the way, when what I wanted was right under my nose.'

'Which was when you tried to call me.'

'Which is when I tried to call you.'

'What would you have said if I'd answered?' And 'c _ome on Harry you're nearly there,'Adam's voice urged him._ 'Y _ou can do this.'_

'What I'm trying to say now Ruth, but we wouldn't have been sitting either side of a table in a room full of people that we don't know.' If he'd had the courage, he'd have said walking hand in hand, barefoot across a beach or gazing out across a cornfield, teeming with wild flowers, but those were dreams for the future.

Ruth knew that she was surrendering herself under the strength of Harry's gaze, her own emotions running alongside side his, teetering on the brink of what she'd dreamed of, but had never dared take.

' _If you don't jump then you'll have to stay up there until the morning sweetheart,' her father had once said to her, when she'd been climbing a tree in their garden and had lost her nerve on the way down. He'd never have let her fall she'd known that, so had closed her eyes and taken that leap. As they'd always done, his strong arms had surrounded her, long before she'd reached the ground. What Harry wanted and what she knew that she wanted amounted to the same thing. She just needed to take that step._

'A minor problem which I'm sure we can rectify later,' she heard herself telling him, throwing herself out of the tree.

Was he going to suggest that they stay here for the night, was there even a room available, or was he just going to suggest that they drive home, which would be unwise given that he'd been drinking? _Come on Harry say something_ Ruth was screaming, as she watched Harry's Adam's apple bobble up and down and his expression change to one of pure wonder, only to be interrupted by the waiter who had arrived with their desserts.

While Ruth had been contemplating the 'where' Harry's mind had travelled on a different path. He'd hoped of course that this evening would pave the way to what was now obviously going to happen, but given Ruth's concerns, he hadn't expected her to be so complicit without a struggle. The fact that they didn't have luggage with them wasn't a problem in this day and age, but he had no idea as to whether or not he was now firing blanks, which meant that he'd have to go in search of condoms, all of which would just add to the possible embarrassment that he'd heap on Ruth if he suggested that they book a room. No, it was a taxi home and the privacy of hers or his bedroom, providing that by the time they got there that she hadn't changed her mind.

'If you don't eat that soon it will have gone cold,' she said, interrupting his thoughts by pointing to his apple crumble and custard, forcing him to make a decision, namely that he needed to call Malcolm and tell him that his car wouldn't be at home, but in the secure garage of the hotel and please would he arrange for someone to pick it up the next day.

'I've had a couple of drinks nothing more,' he told him, when heard the smile in Malcolm's voice.

* * *

The fact that Harry found himself walking through Windsor Great Park with Ruth's hand linked in his because there was a twenty minute delay before they could get a taxi, was her idea, as they joined the late night sightseers who were making their way home. It was a beautiful September evening in every sense of the word and the lights that lit up the castle, made it in Ruth's words ethereal. Away from the constraints of the hotel and under a starlight sky, and suddenly all bets were off. They were liberated.

'As long as you're not expecting me to scale a wall like Hugh Grant in Notting Hill,' he told her jokingly, when she said she had a thing about parks and one of her ambitions was to walk in each and every one, in and around London. Harry made a mental note to ask Malcolm how many there were and to cross match them with his weekends off.

'Ambitions?' He queried and Ruth went on to explain that she'd always wanted to travel, especially around Europe, although after what she'd read in his file, that maybe Russia and Ireland needed to be avoided. It was so obvious that she was playing with him, but by now Harry was riding on a white charger that was threatening to run away with him, with his ability to stop it's progress completely shattered. Almost certainly by design although Ruth didn't notice, he guided them away from the main pathway until they were out of sight. She was so engrossed in the magnitude of him and the fact that she couldn't remember when she had felt this happy, if ever, that when Harry stopped and turned to face her, she stepped right into him. His unspoken I can't do this anymore, didn't refer to him leaving her standing as he'd done two evening ago, his eyes said may I?

Somewhere in the distance the traffic was circumnavigating the castle, people were walking their dogs for the last time that evening and in his small bed not far from where Ruth lived, Jacob was sleeping peacefully. Had he known that his babysitter was currently being kissed as she'd never been kissed before, then Thomas and James that stood proudly side by side on the table in his bedroom would have been smiling broadly and whistling their tiny funnels off. Bearing in mind where they were, with Harry pouring everything he had into kissing Ruth, onlookers had there been any, would have been eagerly anticipating a twenty-one-gun salute. That Ruth was responding because of an overwhelming need to be loved by this man, no matter what the cost, was a bonus, as Harry's hands that up to now been had been in her hair, moved effortlessly across her shoulders down her sides and to her bum, pulling her hard against him. Had she not stepped on a twig as she readjusted herself against him that caused them to stop in their pursuit of what they both wanted, then Harry's previous assumption of blue lights and an awkward conversation with the Chief Constable, might well have been realised.

'Don't be,' she told him breathlessly, when he apologised and said that they needed to go and find that taxi.

* * *

Leaning back in his chair to stretch his aching shoulders, Malcolm was ensconced in the technical suite, munching on an apple whilst keeping an eye on all things Harry and Ruth. Fiercely protective of both of them, but having been told by Adam that he wasn't to worry, he was secretly pleased that he pushed Harry in Ruth's direction He'd seen them leave the hotel and walk hand in hand the few hundred yards into the park, before they'd disappeared out of sight. He wasn't quite the innocent that everyone assumed him to be when it came to romance and if Harry wanted to kiss Ruth in a London Park, then it was their business not his and he certainly wasn't going to watch. His second screen that was trained on Harry's house beeped, causing him to avert his eyes. The same car that had been there earlier had pulled up. One thing was certain, Harry couldn't take Ruth back there tonight.


	11. Chapter 11

'Adam's put Zaf onto it, he's on his way to your house now, he said to tell you to steer well clear,' Malcolm told Harry, who had just climbed into the taxi with Ruth when his phone rang.

They'd had a wonderful evening with the promise of so much more and now this.

'Absolutely not, he's got the address,' was Harry's predictable response, when Malcolm suggested that as Adam wanted to talk to him face to face, would he go to his house once he'd seen Ruth home. If this following him had escalated to someone watching his house, then there was every chance that his relationship with Ruth was no longer on a need to know basis, and he was damned if he was going to leave her on her own to the mercy of god knows who, when he was best placed to protect her.

'Is that wise?' from Malcolm, was followed by, 'no Malcolm, it's absolutely bloody essential,' as Harry's imagination veered away from the following morning, when the first thing that he'd see would be Ruth's head on the pillow next to his, to some dreadful scenario where she would be taken from him, before he'd even had the chance to tell her that he knew he was falling in love with her.

Through all of this Ruth sat listening with very little idea as to what was going on, other than to realise that Harry was staying the night with her and that for some reason Adam was coming to talk to him. As the taxi pulled up outside her house, an encouraging, 'don't worry everything's going to be fine,' and a squeeze of her hand by Harry, meant what?

'Second on the right, and you know where the bathroom and kitchen are,' Ruth told him, telling him that she was going to bed and that she'd see him later. 'My bedroom, it's my bedroom,' she added, when he asked her if she was really sure, but with very little confidence that she'd still be awake by the time he joined her.

'We've had a walk in, a journalist called Jo Portman who claims to have indirectly known Clive,' Adam told Harry, who had reluctantly watched Ruth climb the stairs alone, before making his way to the door to admit an apologetic Adam. 'She says and I know that it sounds unlikely, but another journalist she knows had been working with him.'

'And this warranted you ruining my evening?' and Adam refrained from saying that it had ruined his as well.

'I'm sorry, but when I tell you what else she said, then yes,' he told him, going on to explain that if what Jo had said was true, that Clive had been writing his memoirs and had been given the green light by the powers that be to get them published, exposing heaven knows what about his time in the service, but in view of what had happened, something current. Dressed up to look like suicide, went without question. 'More than that, I reckon that whoever it is who is following you, thinks that you know where they are. By the time that Zaf got to your house it had been searched,' and Harry swore. Scarlet at least was with his neighbour and would be safe, his other possessions, probably not.

'Side tracking me, getting me to take my eye off the ball, that's what Juliet's been doing. She has no intention of taking this blackmail any further. She knows how close I was to Clive and suspects that if he told anyone what he'd found out, then it would have been me. Well he didn't did he and he can hardly do that from beyond the grave? For whatever reason, Juliet wants to get her hands on those documents, but the question still remains why?'

'So what do you suggest?' Adam asked him.

'We throw everything behind finding that manuscript and we expose Juliet before she does any more damage.'

'Such as?' asked Adam, watching the cogs in Harry's head turning over, despite the lateness of the hour and the fact that Ruth was upstairs in bed. He was also showing amazing restraint, considering this was going to be their first time.

'Juliet, if it is her, is capable of anything, which means that Ruth, if she's found out, will be her prime target and I can't let that happen.'

Adam's idea that Zaf move into Ruth's house for however long this took and accompany her too and from work was a sound one, Harry knew that. Zaf was the new boy and nobody would know who he was, but the thought of not seeing Ruth even for a few days was absolutely not what he wanted, never mind knowing that Zaf would be sleeping under her roof.

'Any other bright ideas?' He asked his section chief, the reason for his question obvious.

Ruth heard the front door close, she heard the footfall on the stairs and she heard Harry go to the bathroom. It was surreal, as it was the most tantalising few moments of anticipation that she could ever remember, as she lay there waiting for him. Across the other side of the room, she imagined rather than saw him stripping down, to what she had no idea. He certainly hadn't come prepared to spend the night with her, she was certain about that. As the covers were pulled back, sufficient for a small draft of cool air to drift cross her back, she was sure that he'd be able to sense her accelerated breathing, if not read her mind.

Harry waited until his eyes were accustomed to the darkness of her room. Was she asleep was the first question? If not, would she turn over or speak to him, should he speak first? Why did she have this affect on him, the need to treat her in a way that he'd never done with a woman, not even with Jane? He needed to get this right. Whatever else he did in the future would pale into insignificance compared to this moment. ' _Gently old son_ ' he told his now raging libido, as he shuffled across the bed and curled himself around her.

He'd been there less than a couple of minutes, whereas Ruth had been lying there imagining Harry in her bed with his arm slung around her waist and his hands moving to wherever they wanted with her unable and not wanting to stop them, for the best part of half an hour. He was no doubt tired, but _come on,_ she was climbing the wall with the want of him, especially now that he'd wrapped himself around her, with his need for her as apparent as hers was for him. Was he really expecting her to make the first move? Her whimper was involuntary, her turning over to face him wasn't, as kisses that were intended to be gentle, soon reached a crescendo of passion that neither of them could control. The build up was short, the coming together and the sheer joy of their almost joint release even shorter, as ten years of self – denial from Harry and the rejection of the attainable from Ruth, were blown away, as they clung to each other with no thought as to the consequences. When both their heart rates slowed and finally got back to what approximated normal, Ruth emitted a sigh at her own sheer stupidity that had held her back for so long, which Harry being Harry, took to mean that he needed to apologise that it had been over far too quickly. Persuaded hadn't come into it, this was what they both wanted and they both knew it without a doubt, but explaining that to each other, meant a discussion that involved more than a wow, or was that as good for you as it was for me?

As a consequence, it was way past midnight before they finally fell asleep and in both their cases overslept.

It was only when 'shit I'm going to be late,' from Ruth as she reluctantly leapt out of bed, at which point Harry saw a completely naked Ruth in broad daylight for the first time and struggled to contain a smile, only to be told that she was sorry but she really did have to be at work on time because she needed to prepare for the interviews, that he remembered what Adam had said about Zaf moving in, but having another idea. Catherine was abroad, Graham was almost untraceable, even to him, it was Ruth that was most at risk and he was buggered if anyone other than him was going to look after her, not now.

Breakfast such as it was, amounted to a slice of toast and tea which Harry prepared for Ruth while she was in the shower, followed by a taxi into work that he called. With a promise that he'd call her later, followed by a hug and a kiss before she'd run down the path and Harry was left to his own devices and to contemplate. The first thing that needed to be sorted out was the total lack of security in Ruth's house. Ruth already knew Malcolm so that shouldn't be a problem and would ease the explanation. She also knew that Juliet had been threatening him and Ruth was bright enough to know that by association, that now included her. He knew that he couldn't and wouldn't be able to go into specifics and that Ruth would respect that, which gave him pause for thought. Things had changed, Adam was right, they did have more resources and were able to protect people outside of the service, far better than they once had. Wes was testament to that.

* * *

'We need to make this look convincing,' Adam told Zaf, when in fact he was trying to appease Harry, having seen Harry's expression change to one close to disbelief, when he told Zaf that he was going to pose as Ruth's returning one-time lover, which meant that anyone watching, would need to see them rekindling their relationship. 'It's simple,' he continued as Harry clutched at straws that didn't exist, in what was in all honesty the perfect solution to their current problem. Zaf was young with an element of mischief in his eyes, which had twinkled rather too brightly when Adam had handed him Ruth's photograph.

'This is where she works, I want you to get yourself over there now and explain this to her without frightening her,' Adam continued, while at the same time Malcolm was arming himself with his bag of tricks to up Ruth's security, suggesting to Harry that he should ring Ruth in advance of Zaf arriving and explain to her what was going on.

'Far better she hears it from you first. In my opinion,' he added, and Harry didn't need prompting.

'It's me,' didn't require and explanation either, as at the other end of the phone Ruth smiled. She'd smiled all the time that she'd been in the taxi, she'd smiled at the people as she'd walked across the bridge and she'd smiled at Susie who was already sitting at her desk when she'd arrived. Concentrating on anything other than what had happened the previous night had been beyond her, and even more so now that she could hear his voice. Nothing would ever be the same again she was sure about that, as she pictured Harry either sitting behind his desk or striding along a corridor to one of his meetings, with who she didn't care. I love you, was implied if not voiced as the silence across the void continued.

'Are you alright?' he eventually asked her.

'Absolutely fine, what about you?' and they were in danger of drifting into a conversation that was so much easier to be had at the end of a phone than the one they'd shared in bed, but had nothing to do with him telling her that she was about to get a visitor who was one of his staff.

'What aren't you telling me Harry?' and he was forced to explain that for the foreseeable future, that she and Zaf who was about to arrive, had to pretend to be in a relationship and that he'd accompany her to and from work as though they were living together.

'This is about Juliet Shaw isn't it?' and Harry was back in the reality minefield that he so wanted to avoid. Ruth was an innocent in this mess and for his sins she'd been dragged in as well.

'Indirectly yes, but you're not to worry,' was interrupted by Susie arriving with her coffee and telling her that Zaf was outside.

'I'm sorry I have to go, I have a visitor,' she told him reluctantly, slotting seamlessly into the role that she'd been handed.

'I'm sorry too, but we'll be alright Ruth, I promise you.' I love you, once again hung in the air between them, but one or the other of them needed to put the phone down, and in this case it had to be Ruth.

'I'll see you later then, bye,' and she was gone, asking a confused Susie to bring another coffee for Zaf, returning a few moments later, marvelling that her usually repressed, to the point of being chaste boss, had not only one but two new _whatever they were_ at Ruth's age, in her life. Up until then she'd been convinced that she and Harry were seeing each other, but now she wasn't so sure, as she listened to her visitor blatantly chatting Ruth up.

'So what time shall I pick you up tonight?' confirmed it, as Susie reached the door on her way out.

* * *

Leaving Adam and Fiona, pouring over the intel that Malcolm had gleaned about the recent years of Clive Mc Taggert's life, and what he might have discovered that had driven someone to want him dead, Harry and Malcolm headed first to his ransacked house, where Harry packed a bag sufficient for a week, plus of course Scarlet, before exiting via the back door and the gate in the wall where he'd parked his car on their arrival, by which time Harry knew that Zaf would be in full flow with a charm offensive on Ruth.

'It'll be alright Harry. If there's one thing I know about Ruth, then it's that she's loyal. She's not one to change her mind once she's made it up, she's single minded to a fault.' Malcolm told his boss, who he'd seen checking his watch, when he should have been concentrating on the road ahead of him. 'I know it's not my place to say this Harry, but it's about time you were allowed some happiness and the same applies to Ruth. This effort that we're making to protect her, wouldn't be happening if we thought she was anything less to you than special.'

'I know that and I'm grateful, but I'm still scared,' was confession indeed and surprised Malcolm, considering that for the moment, they had all bases covered.

Adam's plan was a simple one with several key objectives. First and foremost they had to find Clive's memoirs and to draw Juliet and whoever was working for her out of their burrows. By using Zaf to protect Ruth during the times that Harry couldn't be with her, it would give Zaf valuable experience that he so far lacked, with the added benefit that nobody would know who Zaf was or find out, now that Malcolm had eliminated him from the records.

'Just do it Malcolm, we'll rectify it once this is over,' Adam had told him when he'd hesitated.

Harry had to be seen to be at work every day as normal and to remain calm, giving no indication that he was worrying about what if anything was happening between Ruth and Zaf. Easier said that done when Adam knew that they'd so obviously crossed the boundary that he'd pushed Harry into. Ruth needed to play a part too, which wouldn't be easy for someone who up to now had led a normal and he suspected uncomplicated life. They had to assume rightly or not, that Ruth would eventually be followed, so her routine had to be seen to remain the same. Malcolm would meet her and take her too and from choir practice and whatever happened after Zaf had taken her home and then departed once Harry arrived, although not entirely out of his mind, was none of his business. Her safety was as watertight as he could make it, and for the moment that had to be enough.

What he hadn't remembered and nor had Harry, was that Jacob was due for another stopover visit at the weekend.


	12. Chapter 12

'Dog!' squealed Jacob, demanding to be put down, as Ruth carried him through front the door, with Zaf who'd driven her to collect Jacob and then accompanied them to the supermarket, followed behind with her shopping. Scarlet who'd been curled up in her basket in Ruth's kitchen, presuming that her master was back, had padded out to meet them. Quite where Fidget had disappeared to Ruth had no idea, but she suspected she'd fled to her bedroom.

'She's Harry's dog, she's called Scarlet,' brought no comment from Zaf, other than to ask her where the kitchen was. A joker by nature, he'd been told by Adam that he had to look after Ruth as though his life depended on it.

'You won't get a better boss than Harry and I need to know that I can rely on your discretion. No jokes, no silly comments, do I make myself clear?'

Despite Harry knowing that it was essential that he wasn't seen with Ruth and that providing he did as Adam had suggested, that mundane and normal things like shopping together would come later, it still irked him that their one step forward relationship had reverted to a one step back. So much so, that within a few moments of them arriving through the front door, he appeared through the back. Enough time so it seemed, for Zaf to have made the coffee, while Ruth continued to unpack the shopping and Jacob to be tottering after Scarlet as fast as his little legs would carry him. The scene was one of domesticity, except that it wasn't, it was an act. Zaf wasn't Ruth's partner nor was Jacob her child. He had to get past this ridiculous assumption that his relationship with Ruth was threatened in any way, other than by whoever had killed Clive.

Zaf poured Harry a cup of coffee and waited to be dismissed, taking the intervening time to observe what was being played out in front of him. He'd taken a real shine to Ruth the moment that he'd walked into her office and she'd shaken his hand. There was no doubt as to what she did for a living and if first impressions were anything to go by, then she was damn good at it. Compassion had oozed out of her when she explained how she'd recently lost her partner and was battling to keep her head above water, but there was also a steeliness and determination about her, that had seen her slotting into the role as his girlfriend and accepting it without question. Most importantly she hadn't grabbed the phone and ended whatever this was with Harry, which if she had, would have seen the years that he'd spent yearning to be transferred to five and to section D in particular and to work for the legendary Harry Pearce, over before it started.

'Not many people on their first assignment get to work this close to the great man himself. People don't just follow his orders, they follow the person he is,' Malcolm had told him, with more than a warning in his eyes.

Relentless in pursuit of what he believed in, distant at times, and with no interest in anything other than in his defence of the country, were Zaf's assumptions until now, when he was being offered an insight into the man that was so obviously hidden behind the mask. In the corridors of power and on the grid, he had a reputation that suggested he was unshakeable, whereas here, he wore a totally different skin. Gone was the smart suit and tie that were his armour, as he sat back and watched him help Ruth stack away the last of her shopping. There was an inherent gentleness in him when he stood as close to Ruth as he was now, no wonder Adam had impressed upon him how important this assignment was and how discreet he needed to be. Had he not been there, he was certain that Harry would have at least put his arm around Ruth's shoulder or maybe even kissed her, as he continued to watch the waves of pure joy that were bouncing off his boss as he stood helping this woman. Clearing his throat wasn't an option, not unless he wanted a bollocking, so he opted for the obvious.

'I need to be going Harry, call me when you need me,' he told him.

Ruth walked him to the door, and as planned, he kissed gently on her on the lips, lingering just long enough to make it look realistic. Reining in the temptation to say anything that was remotely cheeky or blasé that would see him put to the sword, he held back. He'd see her on Monday, for now he had a job to do and that meant heading back to the grid and to his meeting with Adam. Standing just inside the kitchen, Harry stood watching what he had done a million times as a legend. Except that this time the boot was well and truly on the other foot, and he didn't like it.

* * *

For whatever reason, maybe because it was a gloriously sunny afternoon and they were sitting relaxing in a couple of chairs in Ruth's back garden after lunch, watching Jacob continuing to have what looked like a serious conversation with Scarlet about his train set, that Harry had put together on a blanket on the lawn, where the contented dog was making a damn good impression that she understood exactly what Jacob was telling her, who knows? But _the_ _explanation_ that Harry had never given Jane, other than to say I work for the security services, which he'd abbreviated to I'm a spy, was prompted by Ruth and made easier because she was prepared to listen.

She kick started it, by explaining to Harry why Jacob was a permanent weekend fixture, and what she thought he might consider an intrusion.

'Sophie's a theatre nurse at St, Thomas's and weekend shifts pay so much extra. Since, well since Alex, things have been difficult for her to find her way and up until now I've never had anything else to do with my weekends, and well, Jacob knows me,' wasn't a problem, but Harry recognised that Ruth needed to know that.

'That's fine Ruth, I don't own your time,' he responded. 'I also lost a friend recently, although I have to confess that it was the manner of his death rather than the death itself that brings us to this point,' he told her.

'I know, it was all over the news, I could hardly have missed it,' surprised him, until Ruth reminded him that she'd read his file. 'I've always avoided the news until now, there's never anything good reported is there? But now it's become a habit and a way for me to keep up with what's going on, a sort of stepping stone into your world I suppose,' gave Harry his own stepping stone, to the conversation that he should have had with Jane, long before their wedding.

'Firstly, I want to tell you that everything is going to be alright Ruth,' he told her, knowing that it might not be the case, but that he had to believe it as much as Ruth needed to hear it. 'We're encouraged to avoid relationships outside of the service, purely if not simply, because we're not able to discuss with those at home what we do on a day to day basis. As far back as the year dot, it's led to relationships breaking down, I'm a testament to that, although there are hundreds of others who have made it work. Unfortunately, it's not just a case of discretion when you get to my level of involvement,' he avoided saying rank or position, 'where to be honest there isn't much that I don't know about virtually all our politicians and agents, not only here but around the world. Most of the time we just muddle along and deal with whichever current lunatic is threatening to realign the geo political map or create industrial chaos, that's what we cope with every day. But it's when one of our own threatens to destabilise our democracy that it hurts the most. These reasons have limited me and made me what I am Ruth and it's why I hesitated. I want this _us,_ I really do. I've never wanted anything or anyone more than I do right now. I'll do my utmost to protect you, but you're the one who's going to have to decide if you can cope with whatever the future throws at us and whether or not you want to take that risk,' was Harry baring his soul and leaving himself open to rejection.

Not that it mattered, Ruth had made up her mind long before Harry had started his monologue, but she knew that he needed to get through it without interruption. She was well into her thirties and had shunned every advance that had been made to her on the grounds of what, she barely remembered since the night that Harry and she had made love. It wasn't just the sex, although that had been amazing and was certainly the icing on the cake, it was everything about him. He cared about her, he really did and it had been a long time since anyone had used the word _us_ when they'd been talking about her. She'd met Adam and Fiona, she'd met Zaf and she'd known Malcolm for as long as she could remember. The obvious respect and affection that each and every one of them had for Harry, was confirmation enough for her to know that his words had been said with sincerity.

'Jacob needs a hand with Thomas, he's come off the rails Harry, I'm off to put the kettle on,' she told him, putting her hands either side of his face and kissing him by way of an answer, before she headed off to the kitchen.

From where she stood at the window, collecting the cups together and filling Jacob's beaker while she waited for the kettle to boil, she had a perfect view of the garden. Harry, she suspected urged on by Jacob, had moved from his chair and was sitting on the rug. Having tottered over from where he'd been sitting, Jacob had plonked himself between Harry's knees, animation and excitement spread across his tiny face. She'd been nervous as to how Jacob would perceive Harry, after all he barely knew him, but Harry oozed warmth, at least he did with her and that was all that mattered. Jacob liked animals, he loved Fidget and if he remembered what she'd told him, that Scarlet might not be as tolerant and want her tail pulled, then maybe at the weekends they could put some extra stability into Jacob's recently deconstructed life? She was so absorbed in what she was watching and thinking, that the kettle had boiled and turned off, at which point her phone beeped.

'You are coming back aren't you? I'm running out of conversation.'

Two adults, a child and a small terrier, plus of course the most important item, the train set, on a rug meant for a two - person picnic, was what took up the remainder of the afternoon, and for Harry, was as close to a feeling of belonging as he could remember. Thomas, James and Henry, took it in turns to come off the rails, Jacob continued to demand, by tapping whatever part of Harry he could reach that they be sent chugging on their way again, whilst attempting to say Harry and Scarlet with varying degrees of success, whilst Ruth just lay there on her side, propped up on her elbow watching them and marvelling at the prospect of all her weekends being like this. She'd been so engrossed in her thoughts, that at some time in the future she'd be able to visit all those parks that she'd planned on walking with Jacob, but now Harry would be with them, that she'd closed her eyes, and as the events of the past few days had caught up with her, she'd dropped off to sleep.

The gentle kiss that was waking her up, was in fact from Jacob and not Harry, who'd spent far too long sitting on the grass and had seized up. A shush with his finger over his lips had prevented Jacob poking Ruth, as he gathered together that last of the train set and said that he was going indoors to start the meal.

If Ruth thought that the prospect of having Harry in her bed was the only surreal experience that she was going to have, then watching him wandering around her kitchen preparing their dinner, whilst she fed and then cuddled a now tired Jacob, before she carried him up to his bedroom, to read him a story before he went to sleep, then the scene being played out in front of her, came in a very close second. With the curtains now drawn and the warmth of Jacob's tiny frame against her, she could almost imagine them as a family. Dangerous thoughts she knew, they were far from that, but at least for the moment, she could dream that the world outside her window was a friendly one.

* * *

Had either of them known that Juliet had instructed Jason to pay a call at Harrison and Evershed Solicitors on the Monday morning and by whatever means find out who apart from Susie worked there, only to discover that interviews were being held and that he'd blend in nicely and be able to chat to the interviewees as they exited and ask how their interviews had gone, on the grounds that he was up next, then Zaf would have been appointed as a hopeful to fill the post. But they didn't, which meant that the proverbial was about to hit the fan, as the anti from Juliet was turned up a notch.

'There's someone that you might like to talk to,' Susie told an exhausted Ruth, who had just finished interviewing the last in a long line of candidates and was looking forward to a well – earned breather and a cup of tea. 'He's ever so nice, he's called Michael Jarvis,' was Susie's firm impression of Jason who had been sweet talking her, whilst the last of the legitimate candidates was being put through her paces by Ruth.

'I'm sorry to throw myself on your mercy like this when you've so obviously had a busy day,' Jason told Ruth, beaming his best smile and handing her the CV and references that Juliet had contrived. 'I've been out of London for a couple of years and now that I'm back, I realise how much I've missed it. Unfortunately, small and more intimate companies like yours seem to be disappearing, whereas they should be encouraged rather than be taken over by the big boys that people can't afford. They're taking the heart out of the London that I left behind, I'm sure you agree? I know that I shouldn't have called uninvited, but just on the off chance that you haven't made a decision yet, I thought to myself, well why not, there's no harm in asking.'

Ruth couldn't decide if he was patronising her or being genuine, but if it was the latter, then he certainly held the same beliefs as she did. Her thoughts were interrupted when Susie arrived with her tea and a coffee for Jason, keen to know if this late arrival was in the running, without actually asking her boss the question.

'Thank you Susie,' referred to her cup of tea, not to Jason's coffee, that was going to prolong the interview.

Only a small percentage of the candidates that she'd interviewed had been men, and that's what she really wanted to add a balance to the firm. There were still clients out there, even in this day and age, who didn't want _bits of girls_ listening to their confessions, as one particularly obnoxious client had once referred to her.

Zaf was due in half an hour to take her home, to what she was hoping would be another blissful getting to know you evening with Harry. They hadn't spoken since she'd left the house that morning, with a promise that he'd cook again, which had earned him a huge hug before he'd left, and she was really missing him. She was tired, she wanted to soak in a long bath and contemplate her decision in the privacy of her own home and be able to talk it over with Harry.

'I'll be making my decision over the next few days and Susie will call you if you've been successful, otherwise it will be by letter,' she told a now smiling Jason, convinced that he had enough information to take back to Juliet.


	13. Chapter 13

Driven by little else, other than her enormous ego, which would see her amongst the services _never to be forgotten_ , Juliet was relaxing at home and pondering her next move. She was ahead of the game, winning hands down, the inevitable victory would be hers and she was supremely confident in its eventual outcome. Time was on her side, it was almost open ended, although not a person that was blessed with patience, she was keen to push things along. Maybe she'd make another surprise visit onto the grid in the morning and see what they were up to, maybe she'd overhear a whispered indiscretion around the water cooler or in the lift. Either way, her being there would shake them up a bit and Malcolm was her best bet, he wasn't as tough as Adam or his recently installed wife. Another intelligent stumbling block that she might have to discreetly edge out.

Never mind, on the plus side, she was amazed how easy it had been for Jason to worm his way in. The interview had been irrelevant, but the knowledge that there were only two of them, both women, had given her a massive boost. Although which one of them, _if there was_ _a one_ , she still didn't know? According to Jason, the solicitor and boss Ruth Evershed, was short, had long dark hair and had been a pushover. Whereas her very chatty clerk, Susie something or other, was taller and in his opinion feisty and more fanciable. Did Harry do chatty? Well not in her day, they'd had better things to do. She herself was tall wasn't she, inches taller than Harry and that had never mattered to him during their time in Paris, and if it was feisty that he was still into, then she was still more than a match for anyone. It was just a pity that Jason hadn't been able to find out why Harry had been making so many visits there, and if her assumption that his visits weren't professional but personal, and that he was seeing one or other of these women outside of work was correct. If he was, then she needed to know just how close their relationship was and where this woman lived.

Pouring herself another glass of wine, she stood up and stretched her aching back, as memories of those few sweet weeks, when Harry had been hers, brought a moment of nostalgia and regret. Ruth or Susie, neither name rolled off the tongue after Harry did it? Maybe she should just toss a coin? _Genius Juliet,_ she didn't know why she hadn't thought of it before, it was just so bloody obvious. Jane Townsend, the estranged Mrs. Pearce, was her best way in. If her sources were correct, then Jane was still around, at least on the periphery of Harry's life, bound together by their kids. And kids at whatever age tended to talk didn't they, passed on snippets of information about one parent to the other when they'd split, so there was every chance that she'd know what he was up to? She quite fancied a little run in after all these years, just to see how she and Jane compared. It would be a simple enough task to track her down, maybe follow her into a coffee shop and instigate a chat without giving away who she was. She didn't imagine that Jane was bright enough to find that suspicious and she didn't suppose that her obsession with her appearance and buying clothes had changed, even after all this time. A compliment always produced a response and if it provided her with the so far elusive information, it would be well worth it and might even be fun. If she was going to be able to persuade Harry, then forcing his hand by threatening either his lover or his estranged wife, would be the perfect way to do it. If there was one thing about Harry that she knew for certain, was that it would be impossible to turn him, but a threat to someone that he'd once loved or in this case was currently sleeping with would be the next best thing, and would certainly allow them to achieve their objective sooner. Threatening his kids had never been an option, although persuading him that they might be had been well worth the effort and as tedious as that had been, it had certainly brought the old Harry back to the surface.

This was a job that she couldn't leave to Jason, his methods were too crude for someone as classy as Jane. Besides which, he was far too busy keeping an eye on what Harry was up to.

* * *

They didn't do _together_ in public, except that in this case they did, if Malcolm counted as public, as Ruth walked through her kitchen door and found him enjoying a cup of tea with Harry. _Bugger, she'd forgotten about choir practice and she certainly didn't have the strength to go tonight, not after the already never-ending exhausting day._

There was a bond, a togetherness and Malcolm saw it the moment she and Harry looked at each other. A display of affection, made all the more special, because neither of them appeared to want to, or be able to hide it. He inwardly smiled to himself, not wanting to embarrass either of them or himself for that matter, by admitting that he'd recognised it. Ruth's body language didn't require a question from Harry, he just put the kettle on and made a fresh pot of tea and then poured Ruth a cup. In such a brief space of time they were used to each other. What in confidence Adam had told him was true, their relationship had gone way beyond knowing how each of them liked their tea. The lop-sided smile that he was trying to suppress, broke free from its moorings, although neither of them saw it, as they turned towards the door when it opened again.

Ruth whose life had been quiet to the point of being lonely, had another of Harry's core staff in her kitchen, with the arrival of Zaf, who had checked the street in both directions, before locking the front door behind him. He was the spare wheel, other than as a means to get Ruth home safely, and he still felt it, but Ruth insisting that he should have a coffee before he headed home, saw him sitting down. Despite how tired she felt and how much she'd been longing to just strip her clothes off and immerse herself in a hot bath and close her eyes, that were blurring with the myriad of faces that she'd been interviewing all blending into one, she nodded at Harry to do the honours. Space, just time on her own with Harry, that's what she craved, but if there was one thing that Ruth excelled in, it was to be grateful for small mercies. These three men that were in her kitchen, were in different ways important to her and for that she was grateful. Hanging on in there for as long as she could was a vain hope, and within minutes of Zaf sitting down, exhaustion overtook her and she yawned.

'I'm sorry, I need to,' was said with a wave of her hand that followed a huge sigh,' and Zaf said 'he'd be going, but he'd be back at seven thirty in the morning,' at which point Malcolm said 'he'd better be going as well.'

As much as Ruth yearned to say goodbye to both of them, she knew that Malcolm could pick anything to pieces and make some sense out of it, much as she could, and surely two heads would be better than one, especially if the other one belonged to Harry. She bit the bullet.

'I'm off to have a bath, so be a darling Malcolm and cast your eyes over that lot with Harry would you, and stay to dinner if you'd like too, I'm sure there's enough?' She suggested, looking towards Harry for confirmation that he didn't mind and that the ingredients, to what she had no idea, that were spread out on one of her worktops, would be sufficient to feed three, whilst she fished out the file that contained the details of candidates that she'd interviewed. 'If I'm not back in half and hour, it'll be because I've either fallen asleep or drowned, just check would you?'

Malcolm tried to ignore Harry's smile. Ruth's reason for asking him to stay, had been purely to get a second opinion, but he needed the conversation to move on from bathrooms and Harry's obvious recall of a now naked Ruth, covered in nothing but bubbles. Clearing his throat, he began to meticulously work his way through the various CV's and references. Each and every one of these people had sat in front of Ruth during the course of what appeared to be a comprehensive interview and would have got a real insight, not only into the firm but into Ruth herself. _Handed on a plate_ in Jason's case, was what both he and Harry concluded, although the name Michael Jarvis meant nothing at this stage. Needing to take these files onto the grid and do some research into each and every one of the candidates ,was simply the best option, but doing it without scaring the life out of Ruth by suggesting that perhaps one of them had been a plant and jeopardising her now burgeoning relationship with Harry, despite her weekend's assertions that she wanted it to continue as much as he did, was another question entirely. Malcolm's suggestion that he feign tiredness and ask her if he could take the files home was logical, but brought a no debate and unexpected response from Harry.

'I spend my entire life lying to people, but I'm drawing the line when it comes to Ruth. If our relationship is going to work, then I don't intend it involving anything other than the truth. She's too important Malcolm and besides which she also bloody bright, she's already beginning to read my mind. These are her files, so sorry Malcolm, but it's the truth or nothing, whatever the outcome,' was proven twenty minutes later, when Ruth walked back into the kitchen, smelling like the field full of Spring flowers that Harry had been dreaming about, and said 'well, what do you think?' In a voice that Harry just managed to stop himself from answering as beautiful, such was the impact of a freshly showered Ruth.

'We, well I really,' said Malcolm hesitantly, trying to ignore the obvious upgrade in the atmosphere and instead do as his boss had ordered and go down the truth route, 'think that we should take these files into work and vet the candidates. As I'm sure you realise, we're far better equipped to do it than you are, and in the current circumstances and in the interest of us continuing to keep you safe, we think it would be a wise precaution.'

'I'm so tired at the moment, you can put them all in thumbscrews for all I care,' said Ruth as a joke, then seeing the grin on Harry's face, wondered if in fact it was an option that he'd considered. He really was very sweet and such an open book when it came to her, but nothing like the man he became at work she suspected.

'Thumbscrews it is,' said Malcolm, confirming it.

The only torture that came into play for the next hour and a half, didn't involve thumbscrews, but were the matchsticks that were preventing Ruth from falling asleep, although she made a really good fist of pretending that she wasn't tired. Dinner came and went, Harry and Malcolm chattered in the background, enjoying a bottle of wine between them, which with a wave of her hand she'd refused, until Malcolm said that he really had to go home and that he'd see Harry in the morning.

'Bed,' from Harry, meant just that, with no connotation other than that he knew that Ruth needed to sleep. She was clearly exhausted and he had no intention pushing her into anything that was beyond her, they had plenty of time ahead when sex would be their motive for an early night. The washing up could wait until the morning, she'd had her shower and if he was quick with his, then maybe he'd just get there before she fell asleep.

'Make it quick old girl,' he said affectionately to Scarlet, watching his ageing terrier head out into the garden for the final time, before crawling into her bed next to Fidget. It had been years since he'd needed to worry about anyone other than himself and as he closed the door and locked it before he headed for the stairs, he marvelled at the strange turn of events, all because he'd agreed to Jane's request for a divorce. When he crawled into bed beside Ruth, her even and deep breathing told him that she was already sound asleep, but it didn't take much of an effort on his part to feel her adjusting herself against him and burying her head in his shoulder, her hand moving unbidden and as if by magic, tantalisingly close to his groin. No he told himself again as he felt himself responding, not tonight, it wouldn't be fair. Think about something else Harry, he could do that couldn't he? Had he really only known her for the best part of five weeks, it already felt like a lifetime? That he was in love with her, he had no doubt. When he'd tell her, would be at time when they were free to enjoy some time together away from the confines of her house. The romantic in him that had been buried for years was back and he was glorying in its regeneration. Better still, he had Ruth's assurance that his feelings were reciprocated.

It was pointless torturing himself that Adam and the rest of his staff would be anything less that successful in their pursuit of their goal. It was being an optimist that had got him through more complex situations than the one he faced now, although the goal ahead, had never felt so important. They would help him find out what it was that Clive had wanted him to know, and whoever had killed him would be made to pay. Juliet of all people, someone who at one time he'd trusted with his life, a possible traitor, was still a difficult pill to swallow, but looking back didn't solve anything. Ruth, if she didn't tire of him, was all his tomorrows, and the last coherent thought that he had as sleep claimed him.

* * *

Apart from the fun that he'd had at the interview and Juliet's obvious delight that he'd successfully pulled it of, Jason's patience at the tedium of his new roll was beginning to wear thin. He was tired and getting well and truly fed up with spending his evenings sitting outside Harry's house. It wasn't as if he'd been paid anything yet and he was suffering from dreadful indigestion, having missed so many meals or existing on less than warm takeaways. The searching of the house had been easy, not that it had produced anything, well not of interest. He'd sat patiently until a couple of hours later, Adam and Malcolm had arrived, presumably to help Harry clear up. Why on earth Juliet felt it necessary that he to continue watch the house until Harry went to bed each evening was a mystery. He felt sure that Juliet was mistaken. Harry was a creature of habit, a loner, and it wasn't as though Harry ever went out again, once he got home? He almost felt sorry for him.

Watching the watcher was a piece of cake for Zaf, who having left Ruth's house, had headed across town and was currently enjoying a beer in front of the TV, before spending another comfortable night, tucked up in Harry's spare room. It hadn't been difficult to fool Jason, although at this stage they were monitoring him, rather than pulling him in. One of their less noteworthy agents, looking remarkably like Harry and certainly sufficient to fool Jason, arrived at Harry's house after dark, only to exit by the back door a few moments later, having waited until Zaf had triggered the switch, sufficient to fool Jason into believing, that Harry would be there until the morning. Thanks to Malcolm's intervention and with a minimum of rejigging of Harry's electrical system, which he'd assured him he'd be able to reinstate when this was over, as the lights downstairs went off, the lights on the stairs and then the bedroom went on. The fact that it stayed on, sometimes for as much as an hour, meant that it was rarely before midnight before an exhausted Jason got home, never mind got any sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Zaf now knew better than to just walk through Ruth's back door unannounced, having done it the previous week and found her wrapped in his boss's arms, only to be given a look that said, knock for Christ sake will you. Her telling him not to worry and that Harry was lovely, wasn't an adjective that he would have applied to his boss, but then he wasn't sleeping with him and being treated to whatever else Harry had in the way of assets.

On the plus side, he was really enjoying his role as her bodyguard and spending his evenings and nights holed up in Harry's house. It was certainly a lot more comfortable than his poky little flat, or one of the safe houses that he and Ruth would have been living in, if she hadn't been glued to Harry. But then if she wasn't, she wouldn't need protecting, and he wouldn't be playing such a pivotal role in what was so far an unsolved mystery, that seen Adam bringing him onto the team when Clive had been murdered. Aside from thinking about his current role, he still wasn't completely sure what Harry thought of him and his lack of progress in tracking Belling, and despite him having behaved like a perfect gentleman, that Harry understood the need for him to be seen with his arms around and kissing Ruth, at whatever he deemed were appropriate moments.

Zaf had been unusually quiet in the car and that concerned Ruth. Despite Harry's assurance that he would protect her and would never lie to her, she wasn't so naïve, that she didn't realise that having Zaf as her bodyguard, meant anything less than she was a potential target, for whoever had killed Clive. A cheerful and happy Zaf was what she'd got used to, but this morning he was far from that, in a world of his own. For the first time since Harry had walked into her office in need of a solicitor and into her life as her lover, she was beginning to appreciate the huge void that separated their working lives. Had there been a development? Was there something that not even he couldn't tell her? When he'd made love to her that morning and his kiss goodbye before he'd left her, had been as wonderful as they always were. She'd have known if he'd been distracted.

'Aren't you supposed to be holding my hand?' she asked Zaf, trying to tempt a reaction, and bring him back from whichever planet he was currently exploring. They were approaching the Tate Modern, before turning left and onto the bridge, to be jostled by the same multitude of faceless ants that were heading in the opposite direction. Zaf squeezed her hand obediently, thinking briefly how lucky Harry was to have a woman that so obviously loved him, before reverting back to his previous thoughts about Jason Belling and where he fitted in to all this. He'd been around for years, incidental small fry, joined at the hip to Oliver Mace according to Adam, which despite his lack of skills in keeping his identity hidden, still made him extremely dangerous and one they needed to watch. If he could find him or better still catch him in a meeting with Juliet should be simple, but slippery as a snake during daylight hours, he'd found a way to blend in and disappear. Something else that had added to Harry's obvious ire and made him feel like the new boy at school who was struggling to fit in, because his mother had made him turn up in short trousers.

First things first, he had precious cargo to deliver to work and a cup of freshly made coffee to enjoy.

'Sorry I had a bit of a rough night,' he told Ruth, squeezing her hand again as they paused to gaze at the river, already knowing that she was far too bright to believe his feeble excuse for ignoring her.

* * *

'Who's he talking too I wonder?' Juliet muttered under her breath, exiting the pods and giving Fiona her first glimpse of what Adam had described as 'the last woman on earth that he'd want to sleep with'. Striding out at an alarming speed as if she owned the place, she was obviously heading for Harry's office, where Fiona could see by the look on his face, that Harry was making his first of many 'are you alright? or 'I'm missing you' calls to Ruth, even though Zaf as he always did, had rung through and confirmed that Ruth was not only safe and sound at work, but that he'd waited there for a few minutes to ensure that they hadn't been followed. New love was special and it didn't matter what age you were when it happened. Once you loved someone they became part of you and you always worried. Fiona knew only too well how she felt, every time that Adam put himself in danger.

Deciding to take matters into her own hands and give Harry sufficient time to notice that Juliet was approaching, she stood up from her desk, and with the ease of someone appearing to be totally lacking in vision, stepped straight in front of Juliet, spilling the coffee she was holding and halting the witch's progress.

'God I'm so clumsy,' she apologised bleakly as though she didn't know who Juliet was, and then added 'sorry', when Juliet told her to stop fussing, she didn't need mopping up, despite the fact that her pristine skirt was absorbing a fair amount of Fiona's cappuccino.

'He's talking to Vladimir Putin by the away, I doubt he'll appreciate being disturbed,' got a smile that didn't quite reach Juliet's eyes, as Fiona continued to play dumb and detain Juliet for even longer, by which time Harry had heard the rumpus, said shit and was appreciating Fiona's input.

'Sorry I have to go, I'll ring you as soon as Malcolm's had a chance to look.' I love you still hung in the air, as Harry put the phone down and took the first file off the huge pile that required his attention and that he'd so far ignored.

'Mrs. Carter tells me that you were talking to Mr Putin, how is he this morning, well I hope?' And Harry was back to the previous evening when Ruth had walked into the kitchen after her shower.

Lovely as ever he thought. 'I'll call him back shall I and you can ask him yourself?' He suggested, as Juliet plonked herself down in the seat facing Harry's at the start of her fact - finding mission into whether or not Harry was still involved in any way with Jane.

Harry was of course, with his divorce still pending, not finalised, but why the hell Juliet had thrown Jane into the conversation, albeit in jest, as opposed to a work-related issue he'd assumed she'd arrived with, had set the alarm bells ringing. Their resources were already stretched to the limit and would hardly justify him releasing another officer to protect his soon to be ex-wife, when Zaf was already out of the frame and protecting Ruth, while at the same time searching for Belling. Short of telling Juliet to go to hell, which would lead her to believe that she'd found another of his weaknesses, which she had to some extent, in that he would always feel the need to protect the mother of his children, he was stymied. Added to which, his coffee had just arrived, delivered by one of their newest analysts who was obviously trying to impress, at which point he felt obliged to offer Juliet a cup as well.

If it hadn't been so serious, the irony, would have seen Harry laughing. Juliet, his one - time lover, was still a potential threat to Jane after all these years and at the same time was a threat to the only other woman that he'd slept with since they'd parted, who just happened to be dealing with his divorce from his wife. Happy families it wasn't, worthy of a best seller it certainly was. Maybe he needed to call Jeremy Kyle or Oprah and arrange an appointment.

'Look Juliet, as nice as it is to be swapping pleasantries, if there's nothing else, I really do need to get on,' he told her, completely ignoring that fact that she was bemoaning her quite probably ruined skirt and had no intention of moving.

In the technical suite with the door locked, Malcolm had been busy since first thing. He'd set up an encrypted file on his computer that would allow him to investigate the eight candidates that Ruth had interviewed and hopefully prevent anyone from finding out what he was doing or be able to open it, should they try to hack in. Ruth insisting that she wanted to appoint a man rather than a woman, didn't preclude Malcolm from investigating each and every one of them. He wasn't interested in their credentials as a solicitor or their ability to fit in, his sole aim was to see if anyone was less than what they said they were. Ruth had failed to mention that Jason Alistair Belling, alias Michael Jarvis had arrived without invitation, why would she, she wasn't a spy and wasn't looking for trouble around every corner, so the immaculate and falsified CV that Juliet had put together on his behalf, that was still sitting on the bottom of the pile, had every chance of passing muster. It was going to be a laborious and painstaking search, which had little hope of succeeding.

The tap on his door announced the arrival of Adam, who having tried in vain to release Harry from his session of verbal bondage and failed, had sought refuge away from Juliet's inquisitive gaze, which left poor Harry on his own.

'That bloody woman's impossible, I honestly don't know what Harry ever saw in her,' he told Malcolm, handing him another coffee, before settling himself down beside him and asking him if he needed any help.

'By all means cast your eyes over this lot, I'm drawing a blank so far,' and Malcolm was interrupted again, as another knock, brought the arrival of Fiona.

'Jo Portman's been into reception, she's left a message saying that she needs to meet you again,' she told her husband, before settling down next to Malcolm and offering to take Adam's place.

* * *

The café around the corner as it was affectionately named was just that and where the employees of Thames House bought what approximated their lunch. When Adam walked in, Jo was mid- way through eating what for her was breakfast, since having been woken by the sound of her letter box clattering, she'd spent the best part of two hours taking a circuitous route around London, with the view of fooling anyone who might be following her or be in pursuit of the small package that had been delivered. Other than saying 'Happy Birthday Harry' on the card, it said nothing. Not knowing who Harry was, but having already been drawn into the investigation into Clive's murder and met Adam, she'd put two and two together and decided that another visit to Thames House was her only option. Adam, was to say the least, impressed.

'I'm assuming that you know someone called Harry and this card will be of interest to you?' she asked him, holding the card just far enough out of Adam's reach.

'Have you always been this inquisitive?' He asked her, playing along rather than snatching the card and walking away from her.

It was in their interest to keep her onside, at least for the moment. She was the only link that they had to Clive and whatever he'd written, and if this was a clue which he was fairly sure it was, she'd become an asset. Whether she knew that or not he had no idea, but he was pretty sure that she wasn't playing him or had an ulterior motive. He ordered her another coffee and one for himself.

'Have you always been called Nick Harding?' She fired back at him with an honest grin on her face and her big blue eyes holding his.

Adam paid for her breakfast, Jo didn't refuse. Eating out on the pay of a young journalist didn't mix, especially when it was difficult to find a story that would put you another step up the ladder. Discretion, keep this to yourself wasn't in her blood, but there had been something about the way that Adam had treated her, that made her believe that in this case it was essential. Besides which he was gorgeous and if she wanted to see him again, then she knew where to find him. She just needed to bide her time.

* * *

By the end of the day, Harry was at the end of his tether and had called Adam, Fiona and Malcolm into his office for a 'what the hell do we do now meeting.'

'The fact is, well we don't actually have any facts,' from Adam, wasn't helping, as he looked for the umpteenth time at the card that wished him a Happy Birthday, more than a month in advance of the date. Short of setting fire to it, it had been put through every available scanning process that existed and still nothing, other than a set of wording, which roughly translated, showed Harry's date of birth, and a couple of jottings. Short of divine intervention, that was about as likely as Juliet applying to become Mother Theresa's newest ambassador, or Belling receiving a Knighthood, they had nothing.

Malcolm who had known Ruth for years, long before she'd switched to law, knew that if anyone could work out what presumably Clive was trying to tell Harry, then it was her. Bringing her onto the grid where they had all their resources, although possible, wasn't an option. They needed another location and he had the perfect solution. Whether or not Harry would agree or let that happen, was another question entirely. Had she been anything other than the woman that he was in love with, but should something happen to her, was a question that Malcolm didn't want to dwell on, then yes. They'd used outsiders before, burned assets when they'd had to, but this was different, this was Ruth and Malcolm was at a loss as how to broach the subject.

Adam put him out of his misery. 'Penny for them Malcolm,' he asked him, noticing that his colleague had gone quiet.


	15. Chapter 15

'Have you got a better idea?' Adam asked Harry, who was examining his fist for breakages, having slammed it down on his desk. His 'absolutely not' had been shouted in a voice that would have sent anyone other than the three colleagues who were sitting in front of him, running for the hills, but in this case needed to let him blow himself out before they continued. They had so little to go on, other than they knew that it couldn't have been Jason that had killed Clive. He was a lapdog not a murderer and that meant that Juliet had others working for her, god knows how many, that they still hadn't identified.

'Ruth's not only a solicitor, she's a linguist and a puzzle solver,' had seen Harry's eyes go steely to the point of almost disappearing, as Malcolm pointed to the card and bravely soldiered on. 'She's brilliant, so unless you're prepared to let us change the current policy and share this information across the sections and with Six, then protocol be damned Harry, she's our only option.'

He knew that Malcolm was right, they had to keep this confined and although every fibre of his being was telling him that involving Ruth was a recipe for disaster, he needed a moment to think before he answered.

 _Not at Ruth's house and not on the grid were obvious and certainly not during working hours. Ruth couldn't and wouldn't leave her office and Susie on her own, not unless by some miracle Zaf had managed to trace Belling, which seemed unlikely. The weekend was the other option, but that was still two days away and a lifetime as far as this case was concerned. Five days ago, he'd promised Ruth that the weekends would be theirs with Jacob and yet here he was four days later, about to break that promise. His bloody fist hurt as well, it was bound to look as though he'd hit somebody and an eagle -eyed Ruth who'd never seen him lose his temper would be sure to spot it and demand an explanation. When it came to getting the truth out of him, he'd vowed that he'd never lie to her and he meant to keep it that way._

'Times ticking Harry,' wasn't the wisest thing for Adam to have said, but it got a reaction.

'Stop telling me what I already know, but there's an added complication that you don't know about,' he told them, breaking the silence and telling them about the one sided non - work related conversation he'd had with Juliet, that had amounted to prying. 'We simply don't have the resources to protect Ruth and Jane ,and that scares me,' was the second time that Malcolm had heard Harry use that phrase. The usually clear - thinking Harry was all over the place. Ruth and now Jane as targets, this situation was spiralling out of control and Harry with it. He was right about one thing though, they simply didn't have the resources. The only saving grace was that it was way past six and Ruth would be at home and that's where Harry needed to be, with the one person he suspected could calm him down.

'None of us are infallible Harry, not even you,' was a real risk, but Malcolm was almost beyond caring. 'Zaf will have taken Ruth home by now, and Jason will be watching your house, so go home Harry. If anything had happened to Jane, then surely you'd have heard from Harvey? If you're worried, I'll give her a call. You know me, I can bluff my way through anything.'

Three people held their breath.

'Look Malcolm I'm sorry and you're right. Call me when you've spoken to Jane and thanks,' was feeble when it came to an apology and Harry knew that, but he was rapidly running out of fight and he did want to get home to Ruth. I'll leave you to sort out the arrangements,' he told Adam, gathering up his things, before with his coat over his arm, he bid them goodnight and exited the pods.

'Harry's really beginning to lose the plot and that worries me,' Adam told Fiona, voicing Malcolm's thoughts, as they watched their colleague heading towards the kitchen in search of something to revive him. In a perfect world they'd have been heading home to Wes, but then whenever had their world been perfect?

* * *

Ruth was at home and had been looking at the clock and wondering where Harry was. She'd told Zaf to leave, well not so much suggested as insisted, and she'd been on her own for more than an hour. She knew that Harry was still wavering in his opinion of Zaf, so she was fully prepared to defuse any misunderstanding, by explaining that it had been her decision, not his, that he leave. There was a mountain of jobs that she needed to get through, which included a pile of ironing that had sat there for so long that it almost needed washing again, but that would have to wait. Besides which she needed some space to think and she couldn't do that with Zaf twiddling his thumbs in her kitchen. All day she'd expected to hear from Malcolm and hadn't and with the weekend approaching and still no decision as to which of the candidates she could interview for a second time, the usually patient Ruth was getting twitchy.

They hadn't reached the stage where coming home after a long day at work was routine, other than Harry was always pleased to see the back of Zaf and this evening was no exception. He was tired, his bloody fist had started to stiffen up and turn blue, and Malcolm had hit the nail on the head when he'd told him that he wasn't infallible and needed to get home to Ruth. He did.

Ruth had done as she always did and had changed into what she called comfortable and he thought of as accessible and terribly tempting and to hell with dinner. When he walked into the sitting room, she was curled up on the sofa looking through her notes and hadn't heard him come in, so he could have been anyone. The ability to change the look on his face that he was usually able to school and adapt to any situation, was impossible in this instance, as he marched across the room and stood in front of her.

He should have kept his council, in fact if he hadn't been so angry when he found her on her own, he'd have sat down next to her and kissed her. But he didn't.

His wordless _where the fuck is Zaf?_ Although not said was evident, as he watched on helpless, in the face of what was to come, as Ruth's expression changed to one that matched his own.

The best part of having an argument or a row, depending on what you chose to call it, was in the making up, or so Harry prayed. Unable to get a word in edgewise, a fired - up and wide - eyed Ruth, told him in no uncertain terms, that he wasn't at work now, so to stop looking at her as though she was one of his staff, before asking him what the hell he'd done to his hand, and then in a final burst, telling him that she loved him, despite him acting like a prat, before she finally ran out of steam, but thankfully not the room.

Unconventional, in Malcolm's terms of calming him down, it had done the trick, other than it had induced an overwhelming need in him to drag her up the stairs and into bed, or if she refused, to take a cold shower. Had he been ten years younger, then the sofa would have sufficed, but it wasn't his sofa, not yet anyway. That was only a pipe dream which seemingly Ruth shared, when she finally looked up from her trembling hands, with eyes that begged the same question.

Having gone wordlessly up the stairs and into the bedroom, it was seconds before they were both undressed. Whatever else the next few minutes achieved, because that was as long as either of them could hold out, before they broke all the boundaries in terms of their previous sexual encounters together, was for the future, as they clung to each other in their release, their bodies bathed in sweat and both of them completely spent, both physically as well as mentally. If Harry hadn't been in such a hurry to get Ruth into bed, he'd have put his phone on the bedside cabinet, but he hadn't and he'd asked Malcolm to ring him, which unfortunately, five minutes later, he did.

Ruth had rolled onto her side, temporarily sated and the smile back in her eyes, as she watched a naked Harry searching for his phone amongst the tangle of their clothes that were strewn across the floor. She'd told him that she loved him, in frustration maybe, but none the less it was true. He was so bloody complex, a wolf in sheep's clothing or the opposite, she wasn't quite sure to be honest, but in that moment she didn't care. He brought out the best in her, a new and up until now an undiscovered self, and if what Malcolm had told her was true, then she was equally good for Harry. He cared, more than anyone she had ever met and that was a virtue that was both powerful and gentle, both of which she found attractive. Finding a healthy balance was what he needed to do and that might take him a lifetime, but she could live with that.

'I'll have a word with Ruth to see what she thinks and let you know, but I'm sure she'll agree,' was said with the need to get Malcolm off the phone and him back into bed. If he didn't, then he had no hope of covering what he assumed was Ruth's embarrassment, as his rejuvenated libido drove on relentlessly, displaying his obvious desire for her, with another steadily building erection. Ruth had no such qualms other than her need for Harry, which had been building from the moment that he'd left the bed naked.

Having climbed back into bed and as Malcolm continued to chatter, Harry, with this new found burst of energy and the duvet pulled up to keep out the chill, was making good use of the time. With the occasional um, which Malcolm took to be a response to his questions, he was trailing kisses from Ruth's shoulder across her left breast and then down across her stomach, in pursuit of more. By this time Ruth had closed her eyes and was thinking whatever you're asking will be fine, as Harry sought out what he wanted and finally got Malcolm to put the phone down.

'It sounds as though Ruth's managed to calm him down,' he told Adam and Fiona.'

* * *

Fiona had saved the day, by suggesting that with her parents away on holiday, that they should spend the weekend at their house. The Old Rectory as it was now called near Thame in Oxfordshire, had long since been replaced by a much more modern building, so the large rambling house that bordered a small tributary of the Thames and where Wes had first learnt to fish, was empty. The spacious rooms and an excess of bedrooms that went back to the day when the clergy had multiples of children were rarely used, other than when she and Adam had a chance to visit, which was a bone of contention with her parents. At the end of a long drive, secured by gates that only they had the code to, it was the private and perfect location for a clandestine get together. Wes's endless pleas that he hadn't seen his Uncle Harry for aaaages, meant that they'd be killing two birds with one stone and it was this that Malcolm had been telling Harry, in addition to confirming that he'd had a word with Jane and that she was fine.

But it wasn't until they were bowling along the A40 in Harry's Range Rover and skirting Oxford, that Ruth brought up the subject of Zaf.

'Far be it from me to tell you how to treat your staff and I don't want you to go into meltdown again, but Zaf's terrified of making a mistake,' she told Harry, who had dismissed Zaf with 'find Belling' as he'd strapped Jacob into his car seat while Zaf transferred their luggage from one car to the other, at a prearranged destination. The intention was that this was going to be a working weekend, but Ruth who hadn't been out of London for years and other than to work, her house for weeks, felt liberated and confident enough to say so. She hadn't seen Adam and Fiona other than briefly in the park, so had no idea what they thought or if they'd liked her, but the idea that she and Harry were going to spend the weekend in a house with grounds that were bordered by a stream, with another couple who Harry obviously knew well, made it feel as though they were going on holiday. Providing that Wes wasn't too boisterous, the thought that Jacob would be able to mix with another child and a boy at that, was almost too good to be true.

Harry's 'if you say so,' to her 'Zaf's harmless, he's not interested in me,' finally settled Harry down, as they swung off the main road and into another world entirely, where birds sang their hearts out and the locals tended their gardens.

The house certainly didn't disappoint, nor did the reception that Adam and Fiona had prepared for Ruth. Harry might be their boss and used to being the main player, but as soon as the car stopped, Adam was striding across the drive with Wes on his shirt tails. For one evening at least, he and Fiona had decided that work should be put to one side, and most importantly that Ruth should to be made to feel welcome. Do that and Harry might actually relax, rather than have the heart attack that they'd seen building.

'Through the front door and straight on, just follow the clatter of plates. Fiona's in the kitchen getting tea,' he told her with a big grin on his face. 'Harry and I will sort out the boys and the luggage won't we,' he told his boss.

Harry wasn't the only one under instructions, Wes had also been given a verbal list of rules that he knew better than to disobey. Jacob was only three, whereas he was nearly seven, which meant that he could play with him but he had to be careful not to hurt him. The river was fenced off and was out of bounds and no Wes wasn't to take Jacob near it, not even for a peep, not unless he or Harry was with them. Lastly and what had really sunk in was that Uncle Harry was tired and shouldn't be pestered, but they were sure that if he behaved himself, Wes that was, that Uncle Harry would have a game of cricket with him. Telling him that they'd moved another bed into his room so that Jacob wouldn't be on his own in a house that he didn't know, had seen Wes planning adventures that neither of his parents had considered. That Jacob at three years old and would be asleep by seven or even earlier didn't matter, as Wes was introduced to his new friend.

Fiona away from the pressure cooker of work and in surroundings that were as familiar to her as her face in the mirror each morning, was in her element. Her away from work persona and her dressed down appearance, were as different as night was from day and it was this Fiona that Adam had fallen in love with. Beautiful, caring and the mother of his child. Every day that he woke up beside her, he was grateful.

'Don't worry, it'll be fine,' she told Ruth, when she said that she ought to go and see what was happening, as they carried the last of the tea things out onto the patio, with the sound of squeals and footsteps on the stairs.

Ruth, whose analytical brain had started to click in wasn't sure so sure. Was Fiona's apparent confidence in her misplaced? She was a spy as were Adam and Harry and could act. In fact, her whole existence was made up of her being two people, in the same way that Harry and Malcolm could flip at the drop of a hat. They were all relying on her to solve something that they hadn't, would she be able to do it? Without Harry next to her, Ruth suddenly felt very vulnerable and out of her depth.


	16. Chapter 16

If there was one thing that set Fiona apart from her colleagues, besides her being a woman, it was her ability to read between the lines, which meant that not only was she a good spy, but she rarely made a mistake. When she did, she was also quick to acknowledge it and put it right. Their efforts to make Ruth feel instantly welcome had been misguided, because as soon as Harry disappeared with Jacob, Ruth had deflated, abandoned by the one person that made her feel safe, to a space where she obviously felt out of her depth. So as soon as Adam returned with Harry, she orchestrated a moment with her husband on his own, and as they finished tea and before Wes could demand Harry's attention, which she knew full well Harry wouldn't be able to refuse, she stepped in.

'Harry, why don't you take Ruth for walk around the gardens and enjoy what's left of the afternoon sunshine?' she suggested, as they gathered up the tea things. 'Daddy thought you might like to show Jacob your playroom,' she told her now sticky - fingered son, whose face had briefly dropped.

The playroom in question was a huge shed in the garden that her parents had managed to fill with toys over the years and a temptation that she knew Wes wouldn't be able to refuse, as the smile on Ruth's face and the undisguised look of gratitude which was well worth the deception, broadened.

 _I wish this was just a weekend away and that you weren't relying on me to work miracles,_ Ruth was thinking, as Harry skirted one of the huge herbaceous borders, in search of somewhere out of view from the house.

 _I wish this was just a weekend away and that we didn't have to go back to reality,_ thought Harry, once he'd found what he'd been searching for and was leaning back against a vast weeping willow tree beside the river. Ruth had nestled back against him so that he could wrap his arms around her and her head was resting against his broad shoulder. In the absence of either of them saying anything, they were watching a couple of moorhens dipping their heads in the water, just as they'd done on that first evening, when he'd plucked up the courage to ask her out and had driven her over to Richmond.

Ruth had been overly quiet during tea and a quiet Ruth was a thinking Ruth and he was grateful for Fiona's foresight and thoughtful intervention. But something had to give and he knew it wasn't going to be her.

'Penny for them,' he asked her, opting for Malcolm's tried and tested method, then taking her hand and forcing her to turn and meet his gaze.

'Can you remember the story that I told you? The one when I was little and got stuck up a tree?' She asked him.

Harry could, and just for a moment he considered saying something flippant about her wanting to climb the tree they were standing under and that she wasn't to worry he'd catch her, but with the way she was looking at him there was more to come.

'I know that it's not the same thing and I know you're going to tell me that I'm being silly, but now that I'm actually here, I don't know if I can cope Harry. What if I fail and I can't solve the puzzle, what will happen then?' Was a real possibility, and she hadn't been alone in that thought.

The easy option was for him to say you won't, he was tempted to say I have every faith in you, but there was something about that moment and her frailty that energised him to take another course. Rather than prolonging, what might have well turned out to be a protracted dip into already murky waters, he followed his heart and put to one side the obvious answer to her question, that he had no idea. Not usually known for making the right decision when it came to matters of the heart, he kissed her. It wasn't a kiss of passion, it was the gentlest of kisses that barely grazed her lips as he intended it to. It was a kiss of reassurance and togetherness, that told her he understood her fears and that whatever happened that they'd deal with them together. Then without any further thought other than knowing that this was a pivotal moment in his life, he told her that he loved her.

That Adam just happened to be passing on his way to the shed with the boys in tow, but far enough away that they couldn't see him, was a happy coincidence, as he made a quick turn about. To Jacob it would probably mean nothing and he'd probably seen them before, but to Wes who would digest it and hold onto it for a moment of maximum impact, it was potential dynamite. It was just as well that he had, because Ruth's reaction to Harry telling her that he loved her, was that the pressure cooker of her emotions that had been building had been released and the tears were flowing as well as the kisses.

'I had planned on telling you first but you beat me to it and I will try not to be a prat in the future, am I forgiven?' Was an unnecessary question, given how Ruth was looking at him and Harry was milking it for all it was worth.

'Never in any doubt,' a triumphant Fiona told Adam, when he and the boys arrived back at the house and he told her what he'd seen.

'I didn't doubt it, I just found it hard to imagine until now. They looked – well they looked like a couple, and that surprises me given Harry's age.'

Adam's reward was to be reminded what he did for a living, with a suggestion that he needed to go on a people awareness course, as the subject of their discussions arrived back with a much more relaxed Ruth, who'd been persuaded that any more talk about work was banned until the morning and it wasn't the be all and end all, if she couldn't decode the message.

* * *

Wes got his reward, when his plea that Harry read him a bedtime story, was met with an 'of course' and Ruth, whose offer to help Fiona prepare dinner had been graciously refused, was upstairs giving Jacob his bath, before settling down beside him until he went to sleep.

'Does Jacob remember his Dad?' Adam asked Harry pouring them both a glass of whisky as they relaxed in front of the fire for a few moments, waiting for Harry to be called. It was one of the rare times that he and Harry had spent an evening together, other than on the grid, and in all that time Harry had never had a woman in his life.

'I have no idea and it's not something that Ruth ever talks about, but I doubt it. What child that age would remember a father that he'd lost after less than three years?'

Adam's question had been top heavy with innuendo, that until then, he'd never voiced with anyone other than to Fiona, that Wes might at some stage lose both of his parents ahead of their time. Harry was listed as Wes's guardian, something that had been set in stone in Adam's mind as soon as Wes had been born, which at first Harry had resisted. But as time moved on and Adam had got more and more entrenched in the service and as Wes had become a person rather than just a child, Harry had agreed. It was the single act that had brought them as close as they now were and should the tables be turned, Harry knew that Adam would do anything that he asked of him. Why do we do it? Was a question that had never been voiced and only they knew the answer to.

'Duty calls,' said Fiona, sticking her head around the door and asking Adam to give her a hand. She'd settled Wes down and told him that Harry was on his way and for Ruth to sit tight. It wasn't often that she got a moment on her own with Adam, and she was fairly sure that even after Wes had gone to sleep, that neither Ruth or Harry would be in any hurry to come downstairs. Still dinner wasn't going to spoil and she'd set things up nicely. She just wished she could take a peep.

'Mummy said to tell you that Jacob will like this story,' Wes told Harry, handing him The Complete Tales of Beatrix Potter and pointing to the first chapter, sending him on journey back to the days when it had been Catherine's and Graham's favourite book. Wes's bright eyes were holding his and it wasn't a time for reflection, besides which by the look of it, Jacob was on the cusp of sleep.

'Once upon a time there were four little rabbits, and their names were Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton – tail and Peter,' read Harry, in a voice that would have melted even the hardest of hearts.

'They lived with their mother in a sandbank, underneath a very big fir tree.'

'Now my dears,' said Mrs. Rabbit one morning, 'you may go down the lane, but don't go into Mr. Mc Gregor's garden.'

'Flopsy, Mopsy and Cotton – tail who were good little Bunnies went down the road to gather blackberries; But Peter, who was very naughty, ran straight into Mr. Mc Gregor's garden, and squeezed under the gate,' continued the head of counter terrorism, to his now captive and adoring audience, the eldest of which was hanging on to his every word and had stopped worrying about her success or otherwise the following morning, as she lay gazing at his earnest face, imagining an infinite number of evenings such as this, with the promise of dinner and then bed to follow.

Once downstairs, everything about the evening continued, just as Adam and Fiona had rejigged it. If Adam still held any lingering doubts about Ruth and Harry they were dispelled, when during dinner and as the wine flowed, Harry became calmer than he'd seen him for days, and Ruth who they barely knew began to relax and tell them about her work. She had a magnetism about her, an enthusiasm that was almost childlike, which Harry clearly couldn't resist. When she was talking about something that she was passionate about she changed, and as her confidence grew he went with her. She took the angst out of him and it was impossible for them not to see how he felt. His recent outbursts and him losing the plot had reason. This wasn't casual, he was in love with her, this was real.

'I'm ready for bed, I don't know about anyone else?' Fiona tactfully threw into the conversation as they finished their coffee, pointing out that as Wes's bedroom was next to theirs, that they'd probably get a rude awakening rather early, which of course they did.

* * *

Linked via Adam's computer to the grid and to Malcolm, who was there to supply Ruth with any information, no matter how sensitive, Harry and Adam headed out into the garden. Ruth needed space and she'd assured them that she'd be fine.

'You heard her, she'll shout if she needs anything,' Adam told Harry, who hadn't been concentrating and had been looking over his shoulder, getting himself bowled out middle stump, by what had looked like a wayward ball from Wes that had spun at the last moment. At the other end, Jacob who was swinging his tiny bat above his head as though he was swotting flies was the other half of Harry's two - man team, who were now out for a dubious three runs. Wes was ecstatic whereas Adam wasn't. It wasn't as if he liked cricket, he was a rugby man. If it carried on like this, then their supposed stay out of the way or as long as it takes morning, would be made up of multiple innings with no outcome and what was the point of that?

'Dad,' from Wes was too late, as is son bowled again and Harry hit a four that he should have caught, that earned him one of Harry's recently acquired smiles and a licked index finger that went from north to south.

Relief for Adam, finally arrived in the form of refreshments and Fiona, who' d also been plying Ruth with cups of tea and moral support.

The card appeared to be just that and they had absolutely no proof that Clive had sent it, other than it had been redirected to Jo from her colleague. Doing something that she was in her element with and with no pressure other than from herself to decode it, Ruth was engrossed to the point of being shut in her own little world. It had been years since she'd first taken an interest in analysis and decoding, but you never lost the touch, and with the books that she'd brought with her, that were spread out in front of her across the table, Malcolm was right, she was their best bet. Harry's name and date of birth were the only recognisable facts, the rest was made up of a jumble of numbers and letters. Cross matching them with various alphabets, the periodic table, forwards and back to front had already been done, but Ruth had an insight that they didn't have and put her and Malcolm together in a room, or in this case at the end of the phone, and sooner rather than later they'd have found their answer.

That they were unceremoniously halted in their tracks, was because Zaf raced onto the grid, with the news that Jason had been found, in a way that none of them could have predicted. Strung upside down, like a chicken that was waiting to be put in the oven, with the same clear plastic wrapped around his head, he'd been found hanging under Lambeth Bridge. News that saw Harry and Adam racing from the garden as a terrified Ruth watched on.

The weekend as far as Harry and Adam were concerned was over. They were needed back on the grid, was all that Ruth heard, as chaos erupted around her. Somewhere in the background, Fiona was bundling the boys into the kitchen with the promise of a hot chocolate and Harry and Adam were searching for their things. Their coats, their phones and god forbid what looked like a gun, that Adam was stowing in his bag, saw her flopping back into her chair.

Malcolm was arranging a helicopter to pick them up from a nearby airfield and she had to stay where she was and keep searching, Adam was telling her, as she frantically grappled for something to hold onto, that didn't appear to be moving.

'You've got two minutes,' she heard Adam tell Harry, 'I'll see you at the car,' and suddenly they were on their own.

'Harry,' was all she could manage.

'You'll be safe here, just do exactly as Fiona tells you,' was meant to sound reassuring, but this was Ruth that he was talking to and she could read the deeper meaning. 'I'll be fine and I promise and I'll be back before you know it,' was as much a prayer for forgiveness as it was statement. 'I love you Ruth,' was said as she clung to him, for what to her felt like the last time. Words which echoed on the wind, as Harry kissed her goodbye, and then followed Adam through the front door and climbed into his car, by which time Ruth had lost the use of her legs, made worse as a photograph of Jason Belling flashed up onto her screen.


	17. Chapter 17

'What's going on and where the hell have you been?' was what greeted Harry as he was ushered into the Home Secretary's office, still wearing the casual trousers and sweater, which no less than an two hours earlier Ruth had been clinging too; the memory of which, refrained him from pointing out that as it was Saturday afternoon and his weekend off, he hadn't had time to go home and change before he'd been forced to make his unplanned appearance. Instead he took the less controversial approach and gave Blake what he hoped was sufficient information to let him get back to doing his job, rather than having to explain his actions or the lack of a smart suit to a politician.

Blake then asking him if he knew why one of their _own_ had been murdered and whether he had any idea who had done it, added fuel to Harry's already burning desire to get out of there, and it was a close - run thing not to tell him so. When he added that their chief security coordinator, namely Juliet, was on the warpath and was on her way to see him, it did little to calm Harry down, as he balled up his fists and muttered something that to an equally fired up Blake, sounded very much like 'now why doesn't that surprise me?'

'Forgive me for saying so, but aren't we all supposed to be on the same side Harry and wasn't it you who gave her a glowing reference?' and Harry was seriously tempted to tell him that everyone was entitled to a mistake, but if Blake wanted it, then he was more than willing to tender his resignation. But before that happened, could he possibly have a glass of water?

Before being summoned, he'd made a brief and very unpleasant detour to a crowded Lambeth Bridge, teeming with reporters, all eager to take a picture of what was left of Belling or more precisely his head. Over the years, he'd seen plenty of dead bodies, but never one whose face had been half eaten by what swam in the Thames and was dripping with what lurked below the surface. The manner of his death was extreme and left a clear message that none of them were safe. At more than twelve stone, there had to have been at least two assailants who'd killed Jason and strung him up and it had to have taken place between midnight and five that morning. Whether he'd been killed there was for others to decide, but early observations suggested that it was unlikely, being as Lambeth was a bridge that had easy access from the road, which in this instance had mercifully invited walkers, rather than the usual late night party revellers who'd been searching for somewhere for a quick shag on their way home.

Adam's 'how can you be absolutely sure it's him?' to one of their soco - team had seen Harry turning away, only to hear it being confirmed by the production of Belling's id card, wallet and car keys, and Adam's response, 'useful when he's got no face,' the phrase that had resulted in Harry losing his breakfast.

* * *

Dismissed by Blake with a 'go on then get on with it,' and back out in what compared to where he been earlier and the confines of Blake's office amounted to fresh air, Harry rang Thames House or more precisely Malcolm, asking him to stay in touch with Ruth and Fiona and telling him that he'd catch up with the poor devil's that had found the body as soon as he could.

That done, he finally managed to draw breath and headed home, or more precisely to Ruth's house. He needed a shower and to get a change of clothing and he needed time to clear his head and think before he did anything else. The last thing that he wanted was for Ruth to come home and be confronted with the sight of her house as well as her life ransacked, if that's what had happened. As soon as he walked through the door, he knew that everything was as it should be, but the contrast to his usual welcome was as different as night was from day. The organised chaos as Ruth like to call her home was still in evidence, but it was the silence that made it feel so alien. Jacob's toys were still piled in his toy box in the corner, rather than littering the floor, the kitchen was its usual mishmash of tidy and the radio that eased them into the mornings stood silent, just as they'd left it, but it was the void that had been created by Ruth's absence that was palpable. He'd spent the best part of god knows how many years coming home to an empty house, but this was the first time that he was doing it and wanting it to be anything but like this.

He'd had to fight hard to contain himself when he'd left her, but as he climbed the same familiar stairs that they'd climbed together every night since he'd moved in with Ruth, he didn't have to do that, and it was here that he gave way to his emotions. In the privacy of the shower where they'd had more than a handful of blissful encounters and as the hot water streamed across his weary body, Harry finally indulged himself and crumbled. For man's inhumanity to man, that in a supposedly civilised world, monsters like those who had killed Clive and now Belling were presumably able to sleep at night, but more importantly for the innocents like Ruth, Jacob and Wes, that through no fault of their own had got caught up in the chaos, that the human race seemed endlessly prepared to heap on its own.

Still unaware that this was only the start of the revelations that were going to be heaped on him during the course of the day, he towelled himself down and pottered through to the bedroom. A suit, no sod it, he was his own man, well not entirely, not any more? Their empty bed still held her presence, as did her clothes that were strewn across the chair. Delaying things wasn't going to make him feel any better, so he changed into the clean clothes that he'd selected and made an effort to tidy up. An action that he knew that Ruth would have smiled had she been able to see him, because if there was one thing about him that would never changed, it was his inherent need to leave things tidy before he left home. Thames House beckoned and with it what he hoped were some answers to the latest question.

* * *

The horrified couple who had been walking their dog and had stumbled across Jason's body, had been waiting for someone to talk to them since Zaf had picked them up and transported them to Thames House. Well into middle age and out for their usual mid morning 'totter' as they called it, they were still reeling, not only from what they'd seen, but by the fact that they'd been brought into a horrible building that looked nothing like a police station. A nice man who'd said his name was John, although he hadn't been wearing a uniform, which again they thought was strange, had brought them and his colleague a cup of coffee. 'To keep them going until his boss arrived to talk to them,' he'd said, sending their imaginations even further up the fear scale. More than two hours later and after several more cups of coffee and in Mrs. Wilson's case as many trips to the toilet, the only happy member of their family was their dog, who'd been tucking into the plate of biscuits from the kitchen, as his owners huddled together, worry and the same threat of nausea that was gripping Harry, bouncing off them in waves. Tact and a sense of calm was what had been needed, which Zaf who'd taken over from Malcolm had been attempting to supply as the minutes ticked by into hours. When the door finally opened and Harry strode in, Zaf who breathed a sigh of relief, was surprised that Mrs. Wilson didn't actually scream.

'At the moment we've no idea who he is, and until we do and can inform his relatives, we need you to keep this to yourselves, can you do that for me?' Harry asked them, having first introduced himself as Giles Farmer head of the murder squad, an obvious title given what they'd seen, but caused Mrs. Wilson to shrink even further towards her husband. 'By the way that he was dressed poor soul, it suggests that he was sleeping rough,' still didn't get a response, from the couple who couldn't get past the state of Jason's head and had no idea what he'd been wearing. As Zaf watched Harry take a breath before changing tack and taking what Zaf considered to be the only other option left open to him, by patting the dog's head, Mr Wilson looked up. 'Want a lovely dog you have, what's his name?' Was said in a voice completely at odds with Harry's demeanour, but sufficient of a distraction that worked, when Mrs. Wilson who up until then hadn't spoken a word, dissolved into tears and appeared to call Harry Honey.

Harry's _don't you bloody dare_ expression, insured that Zaf kept a straight face and controlled the urge to laugh.

'My colleague will take a statement and then he'll drive you home, won't you?' Wasn't a question in this case, as Harry shook hands with Mr. Wilson, before regrouping himself for the umpteenth time that day and heading first for the nearest bathroom and then to the lift.

Malcolm who'd done his best to reassure the Wilsons, had spent the best part of what had been left of the morning encouraging Ruth to press on with what she was doing, rather than gathering Jacob and their things and heading for anywhere other than where she was, was buried in data when Harry arrived back on the grid. He'd heard the real fear in her voice and rightly so, but it was far too late for him to berate himself about dragging her into all this, whatever this was. There didn't seem to be a rational reason why anyone would have wanted to kill Belling, other than given the revelations of the past hour, perhaps Harry. But Harry had been in bed with Ruth all night and in the helicopter when Jason's face had flashed onto Ruth's screen as a person of interest, rather than the faceless body that Harry had tried hard to avoid looking at.

'Michael Jarvis,' Malcolm told Harry, following him across the grid. 'Belling was one of the candidates that Ruth interviewed,' he continued, wisely waiting until Harry had sat down behind his desk, before imparting the final kick in the teeth. 'Whoever these people are, they've had Ruth earmarked from the start Harry. I feel responsible, I'm so sorry.'

'How do you know it was Jason?' was answered with a click on Harry's keyboard, which saw Harry clamping his hand across his mouth, his eyes saying everything, before reaching towards the phone and telling Malcolm it wasn't his fault and to give him a moment.

 _Is that wise?_ Had long ceased to exist when it came to Harry and Ruth, and Malcolm was well aware that it was Ruth that he intended ringing.

'I'll make us some coffee,' he told him. _He was getting good at it._

Left alone, Harry was at odds as to what to say to Ruth, that didn't sound patronising or would frighten her even more. After what Malcolm had told him, it was comfort and reassurance that Ruth needed to hear, but the end of a phone wasn't the best place to be handing out either. Deciding that apologising had to be avoided at all costs and that using the phone that had links to the Thames House switchboard, which should anyone decide to listen could prove suicidal, he took out his dedicated phone and rang her number. That Ruth had the phone right in front of her was evident, as it barely rang one time before she answered him. Since she'd seen Belling's picture on the screen, she'd been frozen in some sort of terrifying time capsule where nothing made sense and unable to concentrate, she'd been going through the motions with her search. Jacob had been the warm and comforting lifeline that she'd clung too and he'd been sitting on her lap while she'd been waiting to hear from Harry.

It wasn't as though Harry had deceived her in any way. He'd been honest from the start about the negatives that were involved when it came to having a relationship with a spy, although she was far too entrenched in what they already had to walk away. Adam brandishing a gun, well more trying to hide it was what had sent her reeling, not that she was under any illusion that they hadn't played a part in Harry's life at some time, having seen the multiples of scars that were impossible to hide. But it was Malcolm's absolute refusal to tell her how the man who less than a week ago, had sat on the other side of her desk and convinced her into believing he was a solicitor, had died, that was fuelling her imagination.

That Ruth was more worried about Harry than she was for herself became evident the moment he heard her voice.

'Are you OK?' was barely audible as Harry heard her swallow hard and presumably try to compose herself. 'Jacob's here he wants to talk to you, do you have the time?' was the most ridiculous thing that she could have said given the circumstances, but he assumed it was her attempt at deflection and not that she didn't want to talk to him. He could hear the tremor in her voice and knew that she was fighting hard not to cry. 'It's Harry sweetheart, 'he heard her whisper, as he tried desperately to think of something to say to a small child, that would keep the conversation going, as he walked across his office and locked the door. He needed to keep them on the line, not lose them if someone walked in and disturbed him.

Had he ever had a conversation over the phone with Catherine or Graham when they'd been three years old? He very much doubted it and if he had then he certainly couldn't remember. Most of the time he'd never bothered to ring home, and even when he had, Jane had invariably told him that the children were already in bed and asleep.

Until the previous evening, Peter Rabbit had belonged to him and his own children but inevitably this was what Jacob had decided he wanted to talk to him about, in a short interlude that for Harry changed everything.

For the next few minutes, during what was a very one - sided disjointed conversation from someone who had only just turned three, Harry was transported back to another time such as this. It was on a night when he'd known that Jane was going out so he'd rung, and the baby sitter had passed the phone to Catherine. She'd asked him why he was never there and was he coming home to read to them before they went to sleep? Which of course he hadn't. As he listened to Jacob's wavering voice, telling him that Fiona had been reading some more of Peter's adventures to him and to Wes, because he and Adam had to _go away_ and that Ruth was _too busy_ it was almost déjà vu.

'Bye - bye Harry,' and he was seriously done for and made what he knew was a promise that he intended to keep, no matter what the consequences to his career, such as it was. Adam, Zaf and Malcolm were more than capable of coping in London, it was Ruth, Fiona and the boys that needed his support. Two heads were better than one or so they said, even if he wasn't an analyst. He was going back to Oxford.

'I don't know what time it will be, but I'll see you tonight, I promise you,' he told Ruth.


	18. Chapter 18

Way before the helicopter turned in the direction of the landing pad where a car had been waiting for them, Adam had made his mind up that he was going to try and persuade Harry that they should 'up the ante' in their favour. He'd had enough of them dancing to Juliet's tune. It was time to turn the page. The long - planned and what had been a really enjoyable weekend that had been designed to bring them all closer together was in tatters, so even before Harry had made the decision to go back to Oxford, which had given him the free hand that he needed, he'd been planning on tackling Juliet head on under his terms. In the space of a few hours, Harry had gone from a man that had looked ten years younger when he'd been playing cricket in their garden, to the resigned and grey faced section head that had been long in the making. Not telling Harry what he planned could go either way, but it was a risk he was prepared to take.

'We'll be fine and give everyone my love,' he told Harry, who'd asked him to walk him down to the car park and 'no he wouldn't do anything stupid, he just intended asking a few questions of his contacts,' he told him, as he shook his friend's hand and watched him climb into his car.

That done, he waited until Harry's rear lights had merged into the stream of traffic that was heading out of central London at that time of evening, before heading back up to the grid and telling an exhausted Malcolm to go home. Zaf was more than capable of holding the fort and acting as his wing man if he needed one. He was mentally armed and he was ready.

It was a crisp evening and as he exited Thames House he pulled up the collar of his jacket, before setting off to cross the river in the direction of building that he'd once thought of as home. He'd calculated that he had a minimum of three hours or so before Harry was likely to reach Oxford and would contact him, which gave him plenty of time to execute his plan. The slightest tell from Juliet would be sufficient for him to press home his advantage and he was pretty sure that he had something in his armoury that would see her flinch. Given it was the weekend there was a good chance that she wouldn't be there, in which case he intended having a good look around her office and then tackling her at home, although with one of their staff dead, he'd hoped that he'd be saved the trouble and she'd sitting behind her desk, in which case it was game on, on what was up until now an even playing field.

Even at the weekends, the offices at six were pretty much the same as at five and had a token staff, added too if there was something 'going down', which in this case was Jason's still to be identified body to the basement mortuary, a distraction which saw the doorman and the huddle of staff who were congregating in the foyer gossiping and who knew Adam as well as they knew anybody that worked there, not even bothering to give him a second glance. Dressed casually he could have passed for a junior, but Adam Carter in the mood he was in was anything but, as he walked unchallenged in the direction of the stairs and took them two at a time up to the third floor and along the corridor to Juliet's door.

In what took more than a cursory glance to take it all in, Adam realised that he'd underestimated the magnitude of Juliet's newly acquired domain, as he walked purposefully towards her desk until he was standing in front of her. Despite his utter contempt for the woman and the way she'd achieved her passage to what amounted to the top post, she certainly looked the part, and for one flickering moment he hoped that he hadn't got this wrong and they'd been barking up the wrong tree. She was a player, there was no doubt about that, and if they had, then that made her even more dangerous.

'I've been expecting a visit from your esteemed boss, have you lost him Mr. Carter?' Juliet asked him, nodding for him to sit down, her usual attempt at being funny falling on deaf ears, as Adam determined that whatever the cost to him personally, he wasn't going to be side tracked from what he planned on saying. It should have been Harry that had been sitting behind this desk not her, but Harry would have hated every minute of it. A thought that boosted his resolve. If Juliet was the mastermind or indeed just one of several, in what had taken on a whole new twist as far as Jason was concerned, he wanted to feed her just enough information to peak her curiosity, or alternatively tell her what she already knew. Either way he was banking on gaining something.

'Harry's been busy elsewhere as I'm sure you're aware Juliet,' brought the merest of an acknowledgement in her eyes. Casting his line again he held on, slowly tempting her towards him. 'We're getting sick and tired of your games Juliet, so I'll come straight to the point of my being here,' and just for the barest of moments he wondered if he'd gone too far, as he watched her breasts start to rise and fall and her breathing increase. Mentally shaking his head whilst at the same time dragging his eyes away from what had once been Harry's domain, he cleared his throat and waited, his own breathing rising to match this imposing woman.

'Do tell Mr. Carter and then stop wasting my time and let me get on with my job, because as I'm sure you're aware I'm just as busy as you are,' was caustic in its deliverance and intended to floor him, but his main aim in being there was to take the pressure off a far too emotionally involved Harry and onto him, which if he succeeded would be a job well done. It was time for the final thrust, but for that he needed to be standing up.

'You've pretended to threaten Harry's children Juliet, you've pretended to threaten his wife and for what? Something that you are never going to find, because you don't know where to start looking do you?' And through the anger and composure that Juliet had been keeping well – guarded, there was the slightest flicker of doubt in her eyes. 'Whoever killed Jason has made a huge mistake Juliet, which I'm sure you'll come to recognise, which is more than can be said for him the poor bastard. Leave Harry and his family alone Juliet. If you're looking for someone to come after, then come after me.'

As he spun away, he wondered how he'd managed to get away with it, or if indeed he had? The distance to Juliet's door felt a lot longer than it had when he'd walked in. He'd gambled and got the reaction that he wanted. He just hoped that he'd be savvy enough to watch his own back, at least for as long as it took Ruth to unravel the mystery, or god and Fiona forgive him, he was a dead man walking.

* * *

At the same time as Adam had been flying solo with no backup whatsoever other than Zaf knowing where he was going, Fiona and a much calmer Ruth were preparing the evening meal, with sufficient for Harry when he got there. Fiona, having finally persuaded Ruth to relinquish Jacob in exchange for a glass of wine, had sat the boys in front of the TV with their dinner, with the promise that it didn't matter if Jacob spilled his as he was prone to do. 'How much mess could one shepherd's pie and peas make wasn't important,' she'd told an anxious Ruth, as the first mouthful had been shovelled in.

'How do you do this job?' was a question that Fiona regularly asked herself and was predictably one of the first things that Ruth wanted to ask her, as they took a break from what they were doing and sat down either side of the table, in the huge kitchen where Fiona had eaten when she'd been a child.

'It's in my blood I suppose, it's sort of what I grew up with,' she told her, going on to explain to Ruth that her father who'd worked at the Foreign Office, had never discussed with her or her mother what he actually did, but at the same time had never been under any illusion as to what she planned to do as a living. Her mother had no idea, it was a pact that she'd made with her father very early on, but after she'd married Adam and when Wes had been born, he'd been galvanised into action and added security at the vicarage that made it virtually impenetrable and Fiona's mind made it a safe as Thames House.

'It's controlled in a box in the hall, one flick of a switch and this whole place goes into lock down,' was intended to reassure Ruth,' but Ruth wasn't sure and she hell as like didn't want to find out, well certainly not until Harry was there with them. Fiona had already reorganised the bedrooms so that Wes would be moving in with her and had moved a tiny bed into their room for Jacob, which to Ruth was a far as her mind had travelled. Talk of security and lock downs, in a house that had multiple staircases and corridors and were in grounds that amounted to acres, was in Ruth's mind fine in the daylight, but now that it was dark and after what Fiona had said, terrifying. Anything that scared or worried her had always multiplied to proportions that she knew were irrational once it got dark and Harry was still some distance away.

As such the current occupants were safe, but Harry hadn't needed to be told that. Far too personally involved and that always led to mistakes, was what Fiona and Adam had discussed, during the few moments that they'd had before he and Harry had left, and why Adam had determined to go it alone. As much as Fiona was worried, she knew that she had to trust Adam and that her job was to drag Ruth out of her shell and make her open up and talk about her relationship with Harry, as well as make her feel safe until he got back. That wasn't to say that she wasn't looking forward to having Harry there was well, because she was.

'Adam's inclined to be reckless, I dread to think what he's up to in London on his own,' she told Ruth, choosing a word that she hoped would bring a response and push the conversation on.

'What about Harry?' And she'd succeeded.

'Harry's seemingly made the decision to become steady. He wouldn't be coming back here now if he hadn't,' and Ruth wanted to ask her what she meant and how she could be so sure? But there was something about the way that Fiona was looking at her, that told Ruth that there was more to come if she wanted to hear it. If it was an insight into the Harry that she didn't know and Fiona was prepared to tell her, then she didn't want to interrupt.

'Adam's worked with Harry for years and believe you me, Harry's put his life on the line endless times for this country, but the change in him over the past couple of months since he's been with you has been extraordinary. He virtually lived in his office, or so we were led to believe and he rarely took a weekend off. But despite his dedication and exclusion of anything other than work, there's always been a marshmallow - core to Harry that he's tried to hide and it's only because of Wes that we got to see it, look at this,' she told Ruth, pressing another button to divert Ruth's fears. As if that wasn't enough to convince Ruth, not that she needed convincing, Fiona produced a photograph of a smiling Harry, holding Wes at his christening.

A crash from the sitting room and a shamefaced Wes standing at the kitchen door with Jacob's empty plate dripping with gravy, brought to an end what Fiona had planned to be a lot longer conversation, as Ruth said sorry and grabbed a cloth, at the same time as her phone rang.

'We're fine, well apart from Jacob spilling his dinner,' Ruth told Harry, tucking her phone under her ear and listening to Harry, who'd somehow lasted two hours before he'd rung her, but was now stuck in traffic and as well as wanting to see them all again was getting hungry.

'Yes, she was doing as Fiona was telling her, everything had been sorted out and if it was going to be another hour before he got there, then she'd put Jacob to bed and maybe have another crack at decoding Clive's message,' was followed up with, 'you too,' after Harry quite openly said that 'he loved her,' without the usual hesitance, as Jacob continued to eat the peas that were littering the floor, until Fiona arrived and broke up the little scene by saying that Wes was tucking into a trifle in the kitchen and there was one for Jacob if her wanted it, before scooping Jacob up and leaving Harry and Ruth to talk without interruption.

To Ruth there seemed little point in mentioning her concerns over the phone, she'd have Harry to herself later and there would be plenty of time to talk then. One hour, that's all she had to wait and there was no need to keep him talking, other than her own. He was listening to the radio as he always did. It was Classic FM and that prompted her to go through to where her computer was set up and turn the radio on and start working. Sharing the same music as he got ever nearer to her, she felt better. Telling him that Fiona thought he had a marshmallow inside could wait until later, or maybe she wouldn't mention it at all.

* * *

While Harry was getting ever nearer to Ruth and Jacob and Adam and Zaf were settling down with a takeaway and some beers in Harry's no longer watched house, recalling his encounter with the witch, Juliet was still sitting where Adam had left her and had locked her door. Why was it that people like Clive Mc Taggert hadn't been able to let sleeping dogs lie, but instead had felt compelled to write, what had proved to be a deathbed declaration that had sent them all spiralling? For nearly twenty years, she and her colleagues had conspired to keep their secret from Harry, which if Adam hadn't been winding her up, they were about to uncover. Adam was right, it had been a huge error of judgement on their part to murder Jason, just because he'd stumbled across the reason that they'd been using him and was going to jump ship.

Leave Harry and his family alone, Adam had said to her, presumably referring to Ruth Evershed that she knew he'd been seeing, having sat outside her house and seen them leaving together with a small child on more than one occasion. They simply hadn't had the resources to follow them and in view of what had happened to Jason, she was grateful. She knew exactly what Harry was capable of when it came to defending someone that he loved, which in Ruth's case he presumably did, otherwise why had he been paying her so much attention? Tearing people limb from limb was one of Harry's stock phrases and she was keen to keep hers.

She opened the eyes - only file that she'd guarded for far too long and stared at the name that had brought her to this. If she couldn't find a get out clause that would convince Harry she hadn't been party to killing one of his assets and then covering it up, she was done for. It all rested on what Clive had said and unless she beat them to it and found those bloody papers, she had no way of knowing what that was - unless.


	19. Chapter 19

In another lifetime, long before Ruth Evershed had stumbled across Harry's path and into his heart, he would have done anything to remain at the coal face and one step ahead of his opponents. But that was then and this was now and he was grateful that Adam had given him the opportunity to take a step back and return to Oxford.

I'll see you soon,' he'd promised Ruth when he'd left her earlier, with very little hope of it happening, and yet here he was, less than half a day later, about to keep that promise.

Had he been concentrating rather than daydreaming, then he'd have spotted them a lot earlier, but it wasn't until he joined the traffic that was queuing to get onto the ring road, that he glanced in his mirror and realised that he was being followed – yet again. Now he had a dilemma. Should he turn back and take them on a wild goose chase, or did he follow his heart and continue to where he felt needed? Before that though there was the question as to whether or not there were others, and if so, had they seen him arrive in the helicopter with Adam? Which if they had, meant that there was a fairly good chance that they knew they'd been staying, bringing him to the horrifying conclusion that they knew where everyone that he and Adam cared about were.

Was the house secure and were Ruth and Jacob safe? And Wes, he'd completely forgotten that Wes was there. Surely Fiona would have sent a message to Adam if there'd been a problem?

Not usually one to panic, well certainly not on a personal level, he was gripped by an image that saw him stalling the car, while three cars back, the lights of the black Mercedes smiled at him like an avenging angel. He needed to think quickly, he needed to lose them. Not easily done, now that Malcolm, his guiding light when he was in trouble was at home and it was Zaf who was manning the grid. He couldn't use his phone and call Adam and he didn't have time to reach for the one that was kept for Ruth. Bracing himself against the seat to minimise the shock to his body, he turned on the engine and crept forward, waiting for a gap in the approaching traffic, unaware that his lips were pursed, and his fingers were strumming with an impatience that he'd managed to keep at bay for weeks. _Go go go,_ someone was screaming in his head when he slammed the steering wheel a sharp right and spun the car, which saw horns blazing and fingers being raised. He didn't see them, all he saw were the other cars closing ranks on his pursuers. They were trapped, at least for long enough for him to enjoy the advantage. Now all he needed to do was to find an alternative route back to Oxford that would avoid the main roads, no matter how long it took him. Plus of course, arrive back at the house unscathed.

Had it been daylight, then he'd have probably enjoyed the numerous small villages that he was passing through, with their leaded windowed houses, thatched roofs and tidy gardens, each with a pub and those that were lucky, with a corner shop. Houses where the rich and famous lived, wanting a good rail link into London for their daily commute, to their money driven employment on the stock market or in the civil service. People who Harry was paid to protect as well as those that inhabited the less salubrious surroundings of the British inner cities, equally if not more important in Harry's mind.

On he drove, mile after mile on dimly lit roads with only his trusty sat nav and Classic FM for company, until on a quiet stretch of road, he took the risk and turned down a deserted and very bumpy farm track and turned off the engine. He desperately needed to relieve himself and he needed to wait, just long enough to ensure that he wasn't being followed. He hadn't eaten anything since he'd lost his breakfast, apart from some dry biscuits and a coffee that Malcolm had drummed up for him from the canteen and he was desperately hungry, as well as being cold and tired. _Crazy, that's what this was. Standing on the edge of a deserted field in mid October, zipping up his flies. He was getting too old for this. He wanted home comforts he wanted warmth and he wanted Ruth._ It was pitch dark and he could barely discern the screen, but it didn't matter, it only had one number, hers. He took a deep breath and hit dial.

Pure joy turned into mild panic as soon as he heard her voice.

'We're all fine, don't worry,' she told him, with just enough hesitance in her voice to alert him that maybe she wasn't. 'Fiona's saved you some dinner, we're just eating ours, I wish you were here, where are you?' Were said barely above a whisper.

Maybe the boys were within earshot or she was just being cautious? He wasn't prepared to believe that Fiona had told her what had happened to Belling. None the less he needed to reassure her and the only way to do that was to keep her on the line and to be honest.

'I'm fine too, I just needed to hear your voice. I'm standing on a dirt track in the middle of nowhere and taking a break.' It's chilly out here, I'm losing the will to live, he avoided, stamping his feet against the increasing cold and the need to pee again. 'The traffic was murder getting out of London so I decided to take the scenic route which is why I'm a bit late, but I'll be with you in less than an hour, I promise.'

'That's good,' was sufficient to make him feel better.

The fact that Fiona was mightily relieved to see Harry arrive, was disguised by Wes and Jacob, bombarding him with affection the moment that he walked through the door, after which he unashamedly walked straight over to Ruth and kissed her. She'd heard the car coming down the drive which meant that whoever it was had known the code to the gates or had managed to break in and she'd forbidden any of them to open the curtains and take a look, which had included Ruth. The responsibility of looking after Wes on her own she could just about cope with, she was used to it, but add Ruth and Jacob into the mix and it increased her concerns tenfold. Security or no security, with the increase in technology should you know how to use it, anyone could to break into any system. Malcolm was testament to that. At least _h_ _er_ reckless darling was safe in Harry's house and with Zaf to keep an eye on him he'd be fine. She wasn't worried, well no more than she usually was.

'I'll get these two to bed and leave you to it,' she told Ruth, telling the boys to hurry up it was bedtime, as Harry came back from the cloakroom where he'd washed his hands and was eyeing his dinner that Ruth was dishing up. She needed to get to bed herself and to give Harry the privacy that he so clearly wanted with Ruth, added to which, the prospect of a good night's sleep with Wes snuggled up next to her was a comforting thought.

* * *

'There has to be a reason why Clive chose to send you a birthday card rather than a letter,' Ruth told Harry, once they'd tidied up the kitchen and retired to the sitting room, where they were stretched out together on the sofa in front of the fire. Him now warm and relaxed and wanting nothing more than to take her to bed, close his eyes and drift into oblivion, having been on the go since first thing, whereas Ruth who'd been shaken ridged by Fiona's talk of recklessness and lock downs, was wide awake and fully invested in getting the problem solved without delay.

If she'd been asked to choose one word to describe how she felt now that Harry was here with her, well apart from loved and in this case wanted, it would be safe, and it was all very well him trailing relentless kisses in an effort to get her to stop talking and go to bed, but they had Jacob in their room and it wouldn't be appropriate to do anything other than go to sleep. Harry might be tired, but she doubted she'd be able to sleep, when her mind was awash with new fears. Though where was the harm in letting him indulge himself for a few more moments and she get the benefit, no one would hear them? The result of which, was sex that amounted to a very different reckless.

It was midnight, wasn't that the witching hour? The house that had been alive with laughter that morning was so quiet and so dark, but somehow despite her fears, Ruth managed to rearrange her clothes, tidy herself up and find her way upstairs to check on Jacob. Fast asleep with his new Peter Rabbit teddy tucked tightly in his arms, he was sleeping peacefully, like the baby he still was, despite his three years. He looked adorable. _How had it come to this_ was a question that she did know the answer to and he was also sleeping peacefully, downstairs on the sofa and covered with the throw from Fiona's father's favourite armchair. Heaven knows what he'd think, if he and his wife arrived back now and found people he'd never met camped out in his house. Well at least he knew Harry.

Padding quietly back downstairs, she couldn't resist another peep into the sitting room before she got to work. God how she loved this man, a mixture of a sinner and a saint she'd once kidded him when he'd been recalling his early years in the service. Well he was her sinner or saint and whatever happened she was in for the long haul, no matter where it took her. She needed him just as much as he apparently needed her, so she needed to be strong, not buckle and give him something else to worry about. Time to make a cuppa and get to work was unspoken, but before that she owed herself one more precious moment. She tiptoed across the room and kissed him gently on the lips. She could have sworn she felt him smile.

Asleep at her father's desk was where Fiona found Ruth the next morning and Harry asleep on the sofa. Well either they'd had a row, which she doubted, or more likely sex by the look of the rearranged cushions and Harry's discarded shirt? There were reams of notes on a pad next to Ruth's head, with names, places and jottings that meant nothing, except for a note with a question mark after one name.

Well she certainly didn't intend waking a partly clad Harry up, a strong cup of coffee and Ruth could do that, as she headed towards the kitchen in pursuit of the kettle and the boys, who were clambering for their breakfast. The result of which, was that twenty minutes later across the hall and at the other end of the house, Ruth and Harry who'd both woken up aching all over. Her wishing they'd gone to bed and Harry reliving their exploits of the previous evening, with the relish of a much younger man, with Fiona's prompting, had showered and changed and were currently enjoying breakfast away from the chaos of the kitchen. Tea and toast and a ' I don't know where do you get your appetite from?' which had resulted in one of Harry's you're kidding me smiles, and Ruth was champing at the bit to tell him what had taken her several hours, during which time she'd fallen asleep, only to wake up cold, but determined to see it through.

'He was an old asset of mine, years ago now, that went missing, just after he'd called and asked me to meet him. It was on a day that cost us dearly,' Harry told her, in response to her question, 'Do you know anyone called Barry Day?' Not the full story, that he'd been found three days later on the Norfolk marshes with a shotgun in his hand. A death which had been recorded as a suicide, as a long planned and complicated agreement with the CIA that he'd been working on with Juliet who'd been at six, had drifted into the never never. After which, Ruth carried on explaining how she'd cracked Clive's message, or at least she hoped she had.

'We've been making it far too complicated, when it's simple Harry,' he hadn't interrupted, despite wanting to say 'to you maybe,' as she sparkled in front of him. 'Once I got past the ridiculous names that people call their children these days and in a multitude of languages, there were still plenty to choose from. Although it took me ages to find one which left me sufficient letters to come up with what we've been searching for Harry, the location. Happy Birthday Harry, translates into Barry Day and the Royal Albert Hall, just look here. Once I abbreviated it to RAH, it was obvious. The date of your birthday relates to a row and seat number. Clive was a genius Harry, that's where he's hidden whatever he wants you to find.'

* * *

'What do you mean they've lost him Roy, how difficult can it be to follow someone who doesn't know they're being followed?' Juliet had screamed down the phone at Woodring the previous evening, her _unless they could get to Harry's family before he did_ option gone.

It had all been going swimmingly and she'd been home and dry for nearly twenty years. They weren't in the business of murdering innocent civilians, although this was what this was all about. Barry Day, a name that had been dispatched along with dozens of others, that had been discarded and forgotten, until Clive bloody Mc Taggert, with nothing better to do in his retirement, had decided to spend was left of his time, rifling through files on unexplained deaths during unsuccessful missions, in an effort to find out what had gone wrong and to give their relatives a means of closure.

At the time, Harry had tried to prove that it had been murder and what he'd perceived to be an injustice, so him finding out now after so much time, would run a close second to setting free what had been a caged lion, or in her case, the one man that had the capability of bringing her down. South America or Australia with their sunshine, suddenly felt like very good options.


	20. Chapter 20

Given their history and had he been a younger man and less world weary, Harry would have searched for another way. He'd hoped against hope that as and when they found Clive's letter, that another name would have sent him on different path, but it wasn't to be. She was guilty beyond any reasonable doubt and no matter how he felt about her personally, it was his job to bring her down.

'Back me or sack me Home Secretary,' he fired at Blake, who was stubbornly digging his heels in and refusing his demand that Adam be given authorisation to question Juliet Shaw before he did.

Chief security organiser or not, Juliet was going to get her comeuppance with or without Blake's backing and he didn't have time for this prevaricating. He'd only gone to see him to stop the man chuntering on that he was never kept informed. What did he expect when he behaved like a short - sighted billy goat wanting to maintain the equilibrium at whatever cost, rather than ending up residing on the back benches, or worse still lose his status as a member of parliament, if his failure to act just happened to reach the ears of each and every editor in London? A suggestion that Harry was still keeping up his sleeve.

'This all happened years ago, is it really necessary to rock the boat now?' and Harry mentally counted to ten, before pointing out that as far as Clive and Belling were concerned that it was far from years ago, because the poor buggers were still lying in freezers waiting to be buried, which in Jason's case would be in two parts and at least saw Blake cringe, before waving his hand dismissively effectively giving Harry the chance to leave.

Not before a passing shot of, 'don't do anything stupid that you might live to regret Harry,' whatever that meant.

* * *

They'd made a speedy return to London, he'd had too and he'd been adamant that Ruth and Jacob should come with him. Having taken a reluctant Jacob home, with the promise that he and Wes could spend his fast approaching fiftieth birthday weekend with them, which as Ruth reminded him was set to coincide with his divorce finalising, Adam had arranged a safe house for as long as it took for them to see this through to its conclusion. When he couldn't be with Ruth, then he'd insisted that Zaf was. He had no other option now and he was way past thinking that Zaf was a threat. Ruth was his and his alone which meant she was involved, if only indirectly, so he certainly couldn't leave her on her own. Given what Clive had uncovered, there was every chance that Juliet had been monitoring him and would know that he'd been living with her and where she was likely to be, and that spelt danger.

Fiona and Adam had headed to the Royal Albert Hall on some pretext or other that he hadn't been party too and had mingled with a tourist tour, while the rest of them had sat impatiently waiting for news. The file had been well hidden in a foot-well just as Ruth had predicted, for which she'd been showered with congratulations by everyone. He was pleased at her brilliance, of course he was, she was his world now, but she could never be told exactly how important her work had been and the impact that it was about to have. A thought, that combined with the contents of Clive's letter had not only upset and disillusioned him, but had got him thinking as well.

Clive and he had been friends for years, stood on the front line together as young spies, with no thought as to what they'd been doing, other than it was what they'd been trained to do. Automaton's of the state, destined to die alone in Clive's case. Yes, they'd saved endless lives, but there had been far too many deaths as well, many of which they'd caused. Each and every one of them etched on his memory and seemingly his friends as well. Worse still in Clive's case, as not only had he had to battle with the guilt but a terminal illness, and to what end? To be helped on his way ahead of what time he had left. Frozen to the bone when he'd been found. It was grotesque.

Time in this case meant everything and Juliet wasn't a fool. She'd always been an inventive operator and if she thought that her time in the service was up, then she'd already be planning a way out. Suicide wasn't her style, she'd be wanting a getaway to warmer climes, he'd stake his life on it. Well this was one plan that wasn't going to succeed, so bugger Blake and his prevaricating, he didn't have time for this. He had more important things to do, even if it meant breaking every rule in the book and Blake taking him up on his suggestion and sacking him.

'As you wish Home Secretary,' he told him, tapping his jacket pocket where the letter lay resting. A permanent reminder that he would see this through to the end, if for no other reason than to honour Clive's memory and the ultimate sacrifice he'd made. Ignoring what else might be forthcoming, he turned on his heels and marched out of the Home Office and into the cold air, wondering if perhaps it might be the last time that he'd be called in to see Blake. Still there were worse fates. Apart from death.

He needed a moment to calm himself and to clear his head before he headed back to Thames House. He also wanted to call Ruth and try to reassure her, but before that he needed to read the letter again and that could only be done on his own and away from prying eyes. The wind was whipping up over the water and he turned his collar up to protect himself against the biting cold, before he reached for the letter and sat down, a rapidly chilling cup of coffee beside him. How he hated these Styrofoam cups and their persistently difficult to remove lids. A solitary figure in solitary situation with a myriad of thoughts running through his head, he opened the envelope and rubbed his eyes, the words as pertinent the second time as the first.

 _Harry,_

' _I'm afraid that I need to burden you again one last time, hopefully during the short time I have left. If there was anyone other than you that I could trust and know will see this through to its conclusion, then believe you me I would have sought them out. As we both know, back in the day when we were both young and foolish, or less than careful whichever way you want to look at it, we both did things that I at least have lived to regret. Roy Woodring maybe, but Juliet of all people was the last name that I expected to uncover, during what has ultimately been a fruitful quest in which to right so many wrongs._

 _I've had people watching my house for weeks now, so I've employed a young journalist as a means to reach you. If you're reading this letter then she'll have succeeded, if not so be it. Whatever the outcome there's every chance that I'll never know, given this wretched illness._

 _Amongst my many regrets, dedicating my working life to the service isn't one of them and given my time over again I'd take the same path. What I do regret however and I urge you to change before it's too late, is to make some time for yourself and what's important in life. Nobody wants to die alone Harry, facing his maker unloved and frightened, believe you me._

 _Your friend Clive._

* * *

'I've just bought myself a coffee and I'm walking alongside the Thames, how are you?' he asked Ruth, who'd been spending the time since Adam had arrived to collect Harry, trying not to worry about where he was or what he was doing, by unpacking yet again.

'Another suitcase in another hall,' she'd laughing said to Zaf, trying to make light of the fact that deep down she was scared and was doing her best to hide it. She'd been dragged from pillar to post or that's how it was beginning to feel and all because of this wretched Juliet Shaw whose name would be etched in her memory forever, had done god knows what?

'Adam knows what he's doing, he'll keep an eye on him, don't worry,' Zaf had told her, when he'd seen the look on her face as Harry had walked away. Up until then she hadn't been worried, but now she was. 'You'll see, with a bit of luck it'll all be over by this evening,' hadn't helped.

This was second time around she had Zaf as her minder and she wasn't under any illusion as to why that was. She was still in danger. She'd gleaned enough from the sound of Harry's voice when he'd rung to congratulate her when they'd found the letter, to know whatever Clive had said had upset him, but 'it will all be over,' from Zaf had sounded terminal. She just hoped he was referring to Juliet, because anything happening to Harry was too terrifying to contemplate.

OK she was a just a solicitor who because of a chance meeting was swimming in a sea full of spies, trying to repel the sharks, worse even than staring at an exam paper and not understanding the questions, but to be plummeted back into her previous lonely life where she wouldn't be with him and surrounded by his love, she'd be alone with only the memories of what could have been. Surely after all that happened between them, even she deserved more than that?

'I'm still unpacking and trying to get my head around this antiquated kitchen, we might need to have a takeaway tonight,' she told him, attempting to control her voice and sound upbeat. Whatever he was doing was more important than him worrying about how she was feeling.

'I've just got a couple more things to do and then I'll be back. I'll ring you when I'm on my way,' was a promise he knew he'd be able to keep, even if he no longer had a job. Did he even want the one he had, was another question entirely?

The air hung between them, him knowing that he had to get on and Ruth knowing that she had to let him as they breathed in time with each other, neither wanting to put the phone down.

'Zaf's just calling me,' she told him letting him off the hook, 'Chinese would be nice for a change.'

She needed to keep busy and to kill time and the only way to do that was to try and immerse herself in one of her trusty books or watch some mindless daytime TV, or if Zaf would let her, go out into the garden despite the fact that the temperature had dropped.

What had Harry said? That he was walking along the embankment on his way back to work. Perhaps if she lay down and closed her eyes, she'd be able to imagine that and maybe go to sleep? She'd go stir crazy if she let her over active imagination get the better of her.

* * *

'Get your filthy paws off me,' Juliet protested.

She'd spent the last few hours by booking her flight for that evening and she was about to go home and pack, when her protesting secretary had been pushed to one side by the two heavies that Harry had employed to escort her from six.

'Do you know who I am?' had resulted in a pair of handcuffs being unceremoniously clapped on her wrists and the refusal to let her talk to anyone, as she was bundled down the back staircase and into a car, with no idea as to where she was being taken, but with a fair idea as to who'd be waiting for her.

Harry had returned to Thames House with his mind made up. He alone would take the responsibility for what they were about to do, but to execute his plan he needed Adam's help. They had the proof and after pulling a few strings he'd enlisted the help of someone that would be more than happy to see the person who'd been responsible in ruining what had been an ingenious plan, brought to justice. One phone call that was all that it had taken and he could picture his one - time friend Jim. He was already on his way. Juliet was going to get her holiday of a lifetime. Recriminations or congratulations as far as he was concerned, could come later.

'Adam,' said Juliet in a voice loaded with contempt. She'd been expecting to be dragged in front of Harry and yet here she was again, being dictated to by one of his underlings. Her request for a cup of tea had surprisingly been met as had her plea that she needed to use the loo. Her means of getting to where she was, the only contradiction to the way she was being treated, which didn't bode well.

'As you may have guessed we have the proof that we need Juliet, otherwise we wouldn't have brought you here,' didn't tell her anything, other than she suspected that they'd found whatever Clive had written. The ramblings of a dying man weren't proof of anything, unless they contained the information that Harry had been searching for all those years ago, in which case she needed to turn on a charm offensive and hope that his memory as far as he and she had once been, was sufficient that he'd be lenient. That or maybe Woodring? Had they got him locked up as well? If she could shift the lion's share of the blame onto him, then maybe there was an alternative way out and her one way ticket wouldn't be wasted. Doubtful but still worth a try.

However her request to speak to Harry, was met with, 'all in good time.'


	21. Chapter 21

Four days Juliet was kept waiting until Harry walked into the room, during which time she'd been fed, allowed to sleep and given as much discretion as he deemed reasonable, given what she'd done. They were in no rush and nobody was going to find her. Hidden in a windowless room in a disused warehouse, she'd been kept in solitary other than seeing her minder who didn't care if she lived or died, but knew better than to go up against the man that until now he'd only known by name and reputation. Before that though there was work to be done and in Harry's case, a decision to be made.

* * *

 _Given time, uncertainty will eliminate all reason_ was a saying that sitting alongside Clive during one of the many lectures that they'd attended together as young spies had been drummed into them, and it was this that Harry was gambling would bring Juliet down. For once in his life, time was on his side and he intended using it wisely and for that reason he'd called Adam back onto the grid as they gathered for the morning briefing.

'Jim and I intend taking full responsibility for what is going to happen over the course of the next week,' Harry told Adam, Fiona and Malcolm, introducing his long - time friend Jim Coaver. 'None of you will be held accountable in any way, I give you my word,' he assured them, as they sat around the meeting room table with the one other person who'd waited as long as Harry had to get answers to this riddle. 'What I'm about to tell won't be found in any records and I'm guessing we're the only ones left who are likely to remember how close we came to succeeding. For that reason, no one apart from those of us who are sitting in this room must ever find out what I'm about to tell you. I'm sorry that I have to burden you with this, but I felt it only fair that you have the full picture,' he followed with a brief outline of what Clive had said in his letter, before going to explain what they'd planned but failed to achieve.

'Jim and I first met in what used to be the USSR,' he told them. 'Sent there because the CIA had devised a system of communication that in those days was revolutionary. It allowed us to plant a mole right in the heart of the Kremlin and communicate with him on a daily basis without him being discovered. He was a highly trained operative that I'd been cultivating for months and had we been given the chance to use him, it would have brought an end to the cold war far sooner, the result of which would have seen what approximated peace across Europe. He supposedly committed suicide a week before he was set to come home, although even then I was convinced that he'd been murdered. Until now it's been an unsolved mystery, but Clive's letter and subsequent death indicate that Juliet, for reasons that only she knows, decided to put a spanner in the works, which by killing one of our finest assets succeeded. Clive god rest his soul, has spent his last year delving through correspondence and files, to as he put it 'right the wrongs' of which I'm sure there are many more. But none are as important as this. It appears that Roy Woodring was Juliet's accomplice throughout and we'll deal with him later once this dies down, but in the short - term, in what will obviously be a black op, Jim plans taking Juliet on a sunshine holiday to the States. Overcome by guilt she will have effectively disappeared of her own volition. If we're going to succeed then I'm going to need your help and your backing which won't come without risk, which means that any of you can leave this room now without recrimination.'

'Just one more thing Malcolm,' Harry added, hanging back after the others had nodded their assent before leaving the room, changing the conversation completely. 'I don't want Ruth to have to spend a moment longer than is necessary sleeping in that safe house, it's dreadful, so I need you to tell me how and when it's safe for her to go home. I'm assuming that you can monitor Woodring's calls and keep an eye on where he is and who he's meeting?'

For someone that had known Harry as long as Malcolm had, it wasn't difficult to recognise that behind the certainty that Harry had been portraying, there was an undercurrent that hadn't been evident when the others had been in the room. Harry never really gave you the full picture and he certainly wasn't forthright when it came to telling you what was bothering him. He buried it, he had for years and Malcolm had always respected that until now. He felt sure that his relationship with Ruth was the key to his current mood, so rather than answering Harry's question or moving he stayed put, pouring them both another cup of coffee and waiting.

'I feel as though I've forgotten how to smile,' was mildly amusing, given that Harry rarely smiled, but not in this instance, as Malcolm waited patiently until Harry eventually looked up from where he'd been stirring his coffee rather than drinking it.

When nothing more was forthcoming 'That's not at all like you,' Malcolm suggested, hoping that Harry would elaborate, rather than making statements that required a one sentence answer.

'Juliet of all people, do you know I'm still struggling to understand why she did it. All these years she's had me trapped in her web of lies. Seducing me into believing that she cared, when all the time she's been using me,' was said with the passion of a man who drowning in self- doubt and what Malcolm discerned to be a cry for help. He wished they'd been sitting in Harry's office with the whisky bottle handy. He'd have reached for it, despite the fact that it was still the middle of the morning.

'Time passes and confidence grows. Your past history maybe, who knows why Juliet came back? Perhaps she heard from Woodring that Clive was dying? She knew how close you'd once been,' he suggested as possible reasons. 'If it's bothering you that much, then ask her would be my advice. But whatever her motives were and are, you need to get past this Harry and look to the future.'

'I'm trying believe you me but I'm tired Malcolm. Tired of all the lies and betrayal. It's got to the stage that I barely remember who I used to be, I don't think I can do this anymore, not now I plan to stay with Ruth if she'll have me?'

 _Have me?_ Malcolm did his best to contain a smile again, pouring them both a fresh cup of coffee and venturing as close to Harry as was comfortable. Juliet was a bitch, plain and simple and yet here she was, still able to get under Harry's skin after all this time. But how he could be doubting Ruth when she and Juliet were about as far apart as chalk was from cheese, was beyond him?

'Tell me if I've got this wrong and I've been wasting my time by polishing my best shoes, but aren't Ruth and Fiona arranging a party for the beginning of next month, by which time you'll be a free man and both Jane and more importantly Juliet will be history? I understand that you feel as though you've spent your entire life on one unsuccessful journey after another Harry, I really do, but Ruth's different, she's honesty personified and she's lovely, we both know that. Trust your instincts for once in your life when it comes to the personal. Take some time off away from five, take Ruth somewhere exotic, talk about the future. Life's too short Harry. Do whatever it takes for as long as it takes, we'll manage. You of all people need to turn your life around and so does she. Either that or I'll whisk her away myself.' Finally brought the semblance of a smile and allowed Malcolm a moment to breathe.

 **Later that evening.**

The heating such as it was had been turned up to full, their takeaway had been ordered and Ruth had made the best she could of laying a table in front of the electric fire, something that amounted to a throwback from the sixties. A romantic setting it wasn't, but Harry was determined to make the most of it, if Ruth was prepared to listen. _Do what Clive said and put any thoughts about Juliet to one side, just for this evening_ he'd been telling himself when Adam had been driving him back to the safe house, after Malcolm's assurance that Woodring's house had been bugged and his phones tapped.

The look of relief on Ruth's face and the sparkle in her eyes when she'd walked steadily towards him and into his arms as soon as he'd opened the door, and his confidence had been boosted. Did it matter that the shower had seen better days, no it didn't, other than it would have been nice if the water could have been warmer? The bed at least looked comfortable and someone had manged to find clean bedding such as it was. Two more nights and then they'd be able to go home. To his or hers he didn't care, as long as she said yes.

There was no need for him to dim the lights. The lighting was as antiquated as the rest of the house, but he didn't intend apologising. _You've prepared yourself for this, go for it,_ sounded a bit like the boy scout's motto or was it the girl guides? Another chapter that he'd missed out on in his children's lives. Catherine who'd promised him that she'd come home for his birthday but he hadn't heard from in weeks, another dent in his certainty, had encouraged him just as Clive had, to make room for someone permanent in his life. Well he was trying. Ruth had filled a gap that had been yawning for the best part of twenty years and surely Catherine would like her. How could she not?

'A little bird tells me you're arranging a party for next weekend. Your house or mine?' he asked Ruth, refilling her glass as they cleared away what was left of the takeaway and settled down for the evening.

'Wes it was Wes wasn't it, I told him not to tell you?'

'Not guilty on all counts it was actually Malcolm, but only in desperation during a conversation that we had this morning.

'One of those that you can't tell me about I suppose?' and there she had it in a nutshell, despite the fact that he was sitting at one end of the sofa and she the other, with her legs stretched out and her feet that he was toying with on his lap. Whether or not it was a conscious action didn't matter, it was highly arousing and Ruth was struggling to hold on to the conversation, rather than crawl across to where Harry was sitting and ensure they never made it as far as the bedroom.

'The reams of paperwork that Clive left, our analysts will deal with, but they came with a letter addressed to me. It's what I told you I'd been reading when I rang you this morning.'

'Unless you're going to let me read it, which I assume you're not, then I don't see why you're telling me this Harry?' Failed to produce the letter, but heightened her sense of need for him to just get to the point.

'Because I've always wanted there to be an us Ruth, almost from the first moment that I met you. Clive in his letter gave me the nudge that I needed to be brave enough to ask. When he wrote the letter, he knew he was dying and he also knew he was being watched. In a nutshell he needed to contact someone that he knew he could trust, namely me. In addition to the information in the letter which will bring an end to us running from pillar to post, he was reflecting on what he'd done during his lifetime or more importantly hadn't. It's the shove I needed and it's why I want to propose something and see what you think?

 _Well unless he told her, she couldn't answer. Would it always be as difficult as this when Harry shut himself away in one of his tiny boxes, starting a conversation but never finishing it? Were all spies the same, maybe they were? It wasn't as though she didn't know everything there was to know about Harry the man, as opposed to Harry the spy. She knew him intimately, every inch of him. She'd handled his divorce and hundreds more before him. She knew more about Jane and his children than any other client she'd ever worked with and she'd watched week after week as he'd tried to shake off the ghastly Juliet. Why the hell was he doubting himself when it came to their relationship? She'd accepted what he did for a living, never questioning him whatever mood he was in when he came home, and in bed, well it was just perfect. But drawing teeth or not she had to let him finish._

'Shall I make some tea?, She suggested in an attempt to contain her impatience, as Harry's fingers continued to play havoc with more than her feet.

'After the divorce I was wondering what you'd say if I told you I'd like to make our relationship permanent,' meant what, surely not marriage?

'A new life, just you and I, wherever you want to go, what do you say?' and Ruth moved like a bullet out of a gun.

* * *

Juliet was just finishing her breakfast when the door opened and Harry walked in carrying what appeared to be her suitcase.

'I've got rid of your minder and nobody knows that I'm here, but we need to move quickly,' Harry told her as she made an attempt to stand up. 'I'm taking you somewhere where you can get washed and changed and the ticket that you booked to go to New Zealand has been re -booked for today.'

'Now what makes you think that I'll fall for that one, I'm not completely stupid?' Was a valid question given what she'd done, although this was Harry and if anyone was going to help her it would be him.

'Let's just say that I don't want out previous history splashed across the front pages and that I'll be pleased to see the back of you, now stop asking questions and let's get out of here,' didn't offer her an alternative option. That Harry was cringing inside and would have dearly liked for it to be otherwise and see Juliet brought to justice in the UK, the CIA were far better placed to deal with her and as far as he was concerned be out of his life forever. Heathrow airport would be heaving with people, none of whom would know what was about to unfold at gate 7 in terminal 5.


	22. Chapter 22

'One will be sufficient, just pop it into the last coffee that she has,' Malcolm's calming voice reminded Harry, who was pacing less than patiently in the sitting room of his own house for the first time in weeks, while Juliet was having a shower and making herself presentable somewhere upstairs. He felt like a stranger as he summed up the surroundings and compared them to the comfort and homeliness of Ruth's mishmash that he'd come to think of as home. How could he have lived here and believe himself to be content? The grandfather clock in the hall, a striking to reminder of another age. Pressing his fingers against his temples in an attempt to release the tension that was beginning to build, he gazed at the furniture, wondering why on earth he'd chosen to buy it and if Catherine if she ever appeared, would help him to have a clear out. Everything about it screamed of the other Harry, the one he intended leaving behind.

This was the last place he would have chosen to bring Juliet, but the only place that they could think of that wouldn't raise suspicion if she kicked off. There was still an hour to go before she was due to check in, an hour too many as far as he was concerned, after one over - zealous attempt to persuade him to come with her, that involved her sliding her hand up his leg, had been followed by an acid remark about Ruth when he'd refused. Had it not been for Zaf's intervention when they'd made eye contact in the driving mirror, he'd have offered to throw her to their own wolves and be done with it, rather than balling up his fists and controlling himself. _Treat this like any other job, do what's necessary and then you can go home to Ruth,_ was proving far more difficult than he'd anticipated.

The terminal was predictably busy and they were being jostled and thrown together with him having very little control on what was happening. Without Malcolm chattering away in his ear, there was every chance that he'd have played it differently, but as usual he was doing a sterling job by keeping him in check.

'Do it Harry for Christ's sake, she thinks your letting her go, hold her bloody hand,' was the latest of his instructions as he guided Juliet towards a coffee shop. Zaf had disappeared with her luggage which would have gone through without any problem and onto the plane and Jim was waiting the other side of the barrier for when she appeared through passport control. Twenty minutes that's all he had to survive, but it wasn't easy when the wretched woman knew just which of his buttons to push.

'Ask her why Harry, Adam needs to know before he talks to Woodring,' forced him to look up at Juliet again and play nice, despite her predictable answer.

'Once upon a time you and I could have moved mountains together had you wanted too Harry,' was right, they could have done. 'But no, even then you were firmly stuck in your single - minded grove. Russia's your nemesis Harry, it was and it always will be. What you've never understood is that it's the necessary evil that keeps us on our toes. If it isn't them pulling the strings then there will always be someone else who's waiting to step into their shoes and disrupt world peace. Man's inhumanity to man is the way of things and not even you with your self - righteous bullshit will ever stop that.'

 _All my life I've worked tireless for my country and maybe I like my groove,_ went unsaid _,_ 'and Belling. I know he was a useless slime, but was it really necessary to kill him?' didn't.

'That's two questions,' predictable again.

'Humour me,' equally so.

'We needed you followed plain and simple and Belling fitted the bill. He did it very successfully for a while, but then after that interview he got overconfident and we lost control of him. We knew you were onto him. He had to go. Roy's lads had got a taste for it, they'd already dispensed with Clive and we were banking on you being side tracked, which you were until you're weekend in Oxford when that bitch turned the tables on us.'

 _Dispensed with, was the woman entirely without heart?_ Calling Ruth a bitch and his hands moved unbidden from his sides.

'Don't,' said Malcolm rather forcefully.

'Drink your coffee Juliet,' he told her, looking at his watch, wondering how he could have ever believed he was in love with this woman. Juliet had been the consummate double agent for as long as he'd known her and his friend Clive had paid the ultimate price. Had it not been for Ruth's brilliance, didn't bear thinking about. Juliet deserved what was coming to her. Whereas his gentle, beautiful and innocent Ruth was at home waiting for him. Malcolm was right, they were as different as chalk was from cheese. One more roll of the dice and it would all be over.

'Time to go,' he said as reluctantly as he could manage, given the rage that had been building, squeezing Juliet's hand in an attempt to keep the equilibrium, as she stepped towards the barrier and walked out of his life forever. He was buggered if he was going to kiss her goodbye, despite her pleas.

'Tell Adam and Zaf it's done, I'll meet them at the car,' he told Malcolm, 'and then ring Ruth and tell her I'm on my way home.'

* * *

Still uncertain, he'd wanted to be sure that Juliet was in all senses of the word done and dusted, so he'd waited to elaborate on _the permanent,_ that had resulted in Ruth throwing herself at him like a bullet out of a gun with a resounding yes. The lack of sleep hadn't entirely been due to the fact that he'd arrived home to an ecstatic Ruth, who with Juliet out of the way and Woodring who was being dealt with by Adam and wishing he'd never been born, had seen them walking outside the house together for the first time in months and heading into one of the parks that she so loved. Wrapped up not only in warm clothes but each other and with time on their side, she'd steered him to one of her favourite cafes, where with a huge smile on her face she'd handed him his divorce papers, as well as a message from Jane, wishing him a happy birthday and suggesting that maybe they should get in touch from time to time.

The evening had continued in the same relaxed vein, until lying side by side in bed, completely sated with their hands linked together and not a care in the world, he'd made up his mind to start _that_ conversation.

'I've been ordered to take an extended holiday,' and even in the darkness he'd known that Ruth was smiling. He wanted to be able to make her smile for the rest of her life and he had the perfect destination in mind as to where to make a start. Chamonix in the French Alps was somewhere he'd always wanted to return to. Remote and seemingly cut off from the rest of Europe it was approachable from just two directions. The last road out of France was supported on a huge viaduct, weaving it way upwards towards the snow- covered mountains, whilst the other towards Italy was the Mont Blanc tunnel. The thought of which still gave him a buzz, even after all this time and to be able to visit again and to have Ruth with him was amazing. Not camping as he'd done one June when he'd been in his twenties, but to a chalet with a roaring log fire and a huge double bed in surroundings to die for, within view of Mont Blanc in all its glory. Restaurants and cafes that he still remembered after all these years, away together for the first time in place that screamed of romance, how could she not love it, had resulted in a very late night after they'd been tempted out of bed and booked.

The result of which, was that waking up on his fiftieth birthday alone but to then share breakfast in bed was fine by Harry. He knew he had to play along and if that meant he had to make himself scarce for a couple of hours so be it. After today - well he hadn't told Ruth everything.

'This is so kind of you,' said Sophie, who'd never met the man who was standing at her front door, waiting to take Jacob to a party, but had been told endless times by her son that Ruth had a boyfriend who liked Thomas the tank engine and Peter Rabbit. She trusted Ruth with Jacob almost more than she trusted herself so she hadn't been worried, but she'd been curious as to how she'd met Harry and more especially had wondered what he'd look like. Up until recently, Ruth had only talked about Malcolm who was in her choir and it had been Zaf another new friend of Ruth's, or Ruth herself that had collected Jacob and brought him home. Ruth had always been so insular and every relationship since she'd known her had been disastrous, always ending with Ruth getting hurt. Until now apparently, as Ruth had described herself as head over heels and did that sound crazy? Harry on first sight was certainly different. He was older, maybe that was what Ruth had been searching for without knowing it? He might have very little hair but it suited him, as did his gentle and calm voice, and god his lips and his eyes were to die for. Did he realise she'd been gawping, she hoped not, as they were interrupted by the arrival of her son who raced towards Harry and knee capped him with a force that he seemed used to, before picking him up with an ease that saw her relaxing. She was still dragging herself out of the tunnel that she walked into after Alex's death, but she was getting there. How on earth she'd manage without Ruth and now Harry's support if she didn't have it, was something that she didn't want to contemplate. Putting food on the table and paying a ridiculous mortgage on a house that was far too big for her, now that she was on her own with a small child and her head was barely above water.

'Be a good boy for Ruth and Harry,' she told her son, who was wriggling like mad in Harry's arms impatient to go. She needed something to eat and to go to bed for the few hours that were left to her, before she headed back to the hospital for another long shift.

'I want it to be a normal weekend, no fuss and I'm certainly not going to make a speech if that's what you're expecting,' had pretty much been adhered too, as Ruth and Fiona buzzed about the kitchen on a day that they'd planned down to the finest detail. 'I want to spend the evening, just Ruth and I,' went without saying.

'Why didn't Uncle Harry have a birthday in the summer so that we could play in the garden?' Wes asked Malcolm, who'd been put in charge of keeping Wes occupied, while Adam and Zaf battled with Ruth's unruly table.

'I don't think we can choose when we have our birthday, maybe your Dad knows?' Was the latest answer to what was had been a list of impossible questions, that had started with 'what's chemistry?' To which Malcolm had mistakenly answered, 'In what context?'

'What does that mean?' Was a valid response, given that Wes had been taught he should question everything, that's how you gained knowledge and Malcolm thanked his lucky stars that he'd never had children.

He'd already pretended not to know what he was talking about, when Wes announced that Jacob was going to come and stay at his house for bonfire weekend because Harry and Ruth were going on holiday, something that Malcolm had believed wasn't common knowledge, but had somehow been presumed by Adam. They all knew that Harry had taken his advice and was taking a break from work, but how Wes knew that Harry was planning to take Ruth away, he had no idea?

'Harry's back,' from Ruth and the thundering of a tiny pair of feet, saved Malcolm any further torture as Jacob bundled through the door squealing Wes.

A quiet celebration with friends could only be applied if you didn't have a seven and a three - year - old in the house, who having heard the word party had assumed sandwiches, ice cream and fizzy drinks followed by a round of games, overlooking the possibility of hiccups or the projectile vomiting that might follow. Which was the reason that Ruth and Fiona had prepared a simple buffet, that could be eaten as and when the adults felt hungry and with as little fuss as possible from the boys. Most important or in fact a racing certainty, was that Jacob would be put to bed on time and leave Ruth and Harry on their own to enjoy their evening.

Despite his reticence at them arranging a party and the fact that it had taken a huge effort on Ruth's part to make that happen, including side tracking him as only she could, it wasn't until now when he gazed around the room that he finally relaxed. Surrounded by his friends he felt safe, that was the word he was looking for, that and loved. In Ruth there was an inner strength that had seen her coping without rancour with everything that had been thrown at her since the day that she'd met him. Sitting across the room and talking to Adam, he saw her in a light, that up until then had passed him by. She might not have the outward confidence that Fiona had, but then he wasn't Adam, who despite his ability as his section chief which was second to none, at home became pliant. What he needed was the inherent gentleness that Malcolm had always recognised in Ruth. Someone that he could look after in a way that he'd so far failed to do, but who would also look after him. Take him out of the darkness where he'd been buried for so long. A real person, not a spy that lived two lives. Gazing at Ruth across the other side of the room, he knew that he'd turned the corner that he'd never dared dreamed to be possible.

'What's chemistry Uncle Harry?' said a small voice from a face covered in pizza, at the same moment that Ruth looked across the room at him and smiled.

 _'_ This is,' he thought, his eyes never leaving hers.

* * *

'We don't expect to hear from you until you get back,' said Malcolm, who was pulling on his coat and searching for his car keys. They'd persuaded him to stay for the evening so that they could tell him about their plans and thank him properly for all that he'd done. The others had been long gone and an exhausted Jacob had been put to bed and had been asleep for hours. No speeches Harry had said, so apart from a toast which had included Ruth from Adam, it was what had happened. It had been a full- on couple of days and they were both exhausted.

Bed beckoned, before a quiet day tomorrow when they planned to pack and relax, before the taxi arrived early the following morning. Not Heathrow it's far too busy, Harry had insisted, in what he'd determined would be the last question that should Ruth ask him, he'd lie about. It was Gatwick to Geneva where they'd pick up their hire car before heading north.

'Have you any idea how much I love you?' He whispered to sleepy Ruth, after they'd dragged themselves upstairs and crawled into bed, both close to sleep.

I do, but I'd like toy to remind me again in the morning, not too early though,' she told him, snuggling in closer and closing her eyes.

The best laid plans as they say usually have a flaw and this was to be no different.

'I'm standing outside your house Dad and I'm freezing. Where the hell are you?' asked his daughter as he answered his phone.


	23. Chapter 23

'What time is?' wasn't really necessary, although in a court of law, Harry was ready to insist that 'bollocks' was, as in an attempt to make himself respectable before Catherine rang the doorbell, he stubbed his toe on the side table and knocked over a glass of water. Having been asleep for several hours but waking to a commotion, no amount of soothing from Ruth could persuade Jacob to go back to sleep.

More than capable of matching her head on, Catherine was surprised by how quiet her dad seemed, as she sat in the kitchen of Ruth's house watching him making her some tea. Short of giving her a huge hug and telling her that it was wonderful to see her and that Ruth would be down in a moment, he'd said little else.

It looked as though he'd combed his hair and she suspected he'd taken the time to shave. Heaven knows why when they'd clearly been in bed when she'd called. When her mother had hinted that he had someone in his life, it had doubled her endeavours to come home for his birthday, but nothing had prepared her for the moment that Ruth walked into the room carrying a child.

'Please take him Harry, you're so much better with him than I am,' she pleaded, handing a whimpering Jacob over, introducing herself to Catherine and apologising for the chaotic welcome, before pouring herself a cup of tea and sitting down.

Torn between watching Ruth who appeared to be totally relaxed in this situation and her father who so obviously wasn't, cradling this small boy was a memory beyond any other that she'd ever had. He'd held Graham like this on a night when the whole house had been woken because he'd had one of his nightmares. How her dad had come to her bedroom afterwards and told her not to worry and that he loved her, but she'd stubbornly refused to turn over and pretended to be asleep. Did he also remember? Was this what was worrying him? Questions that had been buried since she'd been a child flooding into her mind, consuming her with an urge to know the answers, knowing that they'd have to wait until the morning. A realisation of time wasted with no chance of turning the clock back to recapture what might have been, she realised that Ruth had asked her a question.

'My plan was to arrive much earlier, but there was an incident at the airport and we were late taking off, I'm sorry to have disturbed you,' was her best effort at saying something to re-energise the conversation and cope with the fact that she hadn't got a clue what Ruth had said.

Undeterred or just being polite Catherine had no idea, as Ruth carried on chatting as though it was second nature.

'Jacob's usually a good sleeper, but we had a party for your dad this afternoon and you know how it is? I'm sorry that you missed it. If we seem a bit distracted it's because we're tired. Look you're obviously tired as well, I'll go on up and sort out Jacob's room it won't take me a moment. He can come in with us can't he Harry?' Was one of those _it goes without saying statements,_ which couples who are comfortable with each other didn't require and answer.

'Thanks.' Was all Catherine managed.

 **The following morning.**

'Given the chance, your father will sleep like a log for hours yet,' Ruth told Catherine, who having smelt coffee being prepared presumed that it was Harry who was down in the kitchen, but found herself on her own with Ruth. Still curious and guessing that getting any information out of her dad would be as difficult as it always was, she settled herself down on the other side of the table and, with her journalist stroke daughter hat firmly in place plunged in. Not with much subtlety as it turned out. That Ruth had reluctantly volunteered, because Harry had seen Catherine's expression change when he'd walked in with Jacob, she wasn't to know.

'How long have you and my Dad been living together?' was about as direct as it got.

'Nearly five months, not long after I became his solicitor,' and Catherine was rocked. She'd imagined that Ruth was one of his spook buddies that could lie through their teeth. But she wasn't, which hopefully meant that she'd tell her the truth. What she hadn't banked on, was that Ruth was more than capable of dealing with almost anything that was thrown at her when it came to questioning. She did it every day of her working life.

'Didn't that create a conflict of interests?' was a fair enough question, but if Catherine was looking for a sparring contest she was about to meet her match.

'It would have done if your mother had wanted to contest the divorce, but she didn't did she?' proved it.

'You do know what my dad does for a living?' Ruth had also anticipated.

'Catherine,' was emphasised, as was Ruth's need to take a breath. 'I can understand that you're curious, but this isn't a conversation that you should be having with me, it's your dad you should be talking to.'

'But Dad and I don't really talk,' and there it was. She really wanted to tell Catherine to try harder, but knowing how resistant Harry could be if he was pushed, she ploughed on with a showstopper.

'If a person falls in love with someone as quickly as I fell in love with your dad, then what do you do as a living isn't the first question that comes to mind? Besides which it was Malcolm that brought us together.'

'Uncle Malcolm?'

'Yes.'

'And when you found out?'

'To be honest I was more shocked about Malcolm than I was your dad, who wouldn't be? But for reasons that I can't go into, we've found a way to make it work.'

'And this doesn't worry you as a mother?' And Ruth inwardly smiled. This was the real question that Catherine had been building up to.

'Oh no Jacob's not mine, we just look after him at the weekends when his mother's at work.'

'Dad takes weekends off?' Was a valid question.

'He does,' said a voice from the doorway, before Harry walked through the door with Jacob, both of them still dressed in their pyjamas and him with a look on his face that told Catherine that he'd been listening to her inquisition.

'Peter,' said Jacob, tottering over to where Catherine was sitting, handing her his rabbit with impeccable timing.

'Breakfast, what would everybody like?' Ruth asked them, looking towards Catherine and thinking how much like Harry she was and looked, before she handed Harry a coffee and waited for a response that was slow in coming, other than from Jacob.

'Harry, Catherine loves you, she was just being curious, don't read so much into it,' followed breakfast, during which time Catherine had watched her dad and Jacob eat cereal and toast, as opposed to virtually nothing that he'd somehow managed to exist on when he'd been living on his own. Ruth was giving Jacob his bath and Harry had crept into the bathroom to join her while Catherine was in the shower room, intent on finding a way for them to leave the following morning as planned without it upsetting his daughter.

'She's a big girl, I'm sure she can cope for a few weeks, she can stay here if she wants to, and no I'm not going to take my clothes off and climb in,' followed Harry's suggestion that it would save some time, and no the water didn't need topping up before she did so, as Jacob splashed about contentedly.

Packing was what they needed to do, that and take Jacob home, before they got what she hoped would be an early night to recuperate, before their taxi arrived in the morning. Quite how Catherine was going to fit into their day she hadn't thought about, there was only so much that she could cope with, even with her ability to organise.

'Stop thinking,' Harry whispered, stealing a moment by kneeling down behind her and burying his face in her hair, pressing himself against her. Jacob was within inches of them talking to himself, occupied in his own little world. As her body relaxed back against Harry's, she fought against the mounting urge to turn around and kiss him. Somehow finding the strength to stop. Instead she closed her eyes and stilled Harry's hands, promising herself that for the next couple of weeks and beyond, that whatever they asked of each other, neither of them would say no.

* * *

Impatient and resistant when it came to change, Harry had relented on one thing and it was Catherine that had driven them to the airport. Jacob was home, Jacob was safe and Adam would be at the helm by now.

That Harry had been planning this trip for weeks but had only told Ruth just some of the things that she could expect, no amount of research or the books that she'd spent her life reading could have given her the view as the plane circled on the approach to the airport. Lake Geneva stretching as far as they eye could see, the famous fountain that was a landmark in this beautiful Swiss city, now still, or the snow - covered streets and the bitter cold, that explained why Harry had told her to pack only the essentials because there wasn't time and they'd shop for what they needed when they got there. But it was the sky, blue and clear above the hills that most took her breath away. That and the look of pure joy on Harry's face as guided her out of the terminal.

'City centre,' he told their taxi driver, 'somewhere for a warm drink,' went unspoken, as he smiled at her with the look of a child that had been hiding a secret. All the worry that had been haunting him for weeks gone.

She lived and died in the boots that she was wearing, but as she slipped and slid, clinging onto Harry's arm as they entered a café in search of something to eat, she knew where they'd be heading first. That and some heavy jumpers and socks, anything else they could buy in Chamonix he told her, rubbing her hands between his to warm them up, as they sat either side of a small table waiting for their marshmallow topped hot chocolate and croissants.

That Harry could continue to play out his long - held dream, was testament not only to his own excitement at finally being on holiday in an area that had grabbed at his heartstrings when he'd been a young man, but that Ruth was here with him. Free from the self - imposed shackles that had held him like a vice, he had no authority whatsoever. No one would know who he was and for the first time in years he had no responsibilities other than to share this most precious time with Ruth. The phone wouldn't ring, there were no bloody meetings to go to and most importantly he was deliriously happy.

Whatever time of year you visited Chamonix it was guaranteed to be filled with like-minded tourists as surely as Mont Blanc was to be covered in snow and, as he drove south east on a journey that he knew would take them less than two hours he felt his body beginning to unwind.

At the bottom of the valley, he pulled into a small parking area to stretch his legs and to take a breath. The huge viaduct that hadn't even been conceived, never mind built when he'd last come here, was less than a kilometre away. Not wanting to cock things up at the death by getting himself lost, he reached into his jacket pocket and found the directions to where they'd be staying. Ruth was looking around at the scenery, flat and barren and to all intents and purposes uninteresting. It was almost as though it had been designed to look like this, so that first time visitors would experience a plunge into disappointment, before the elation that was so tantalisingly close.

 _What had Malcolm said? Take some time off, take Ruth somewhere exotic, talk about the future. Life's too short Harry. Do whatever it takes for as long as it takes, we'll manage._ Exotic it wasn't, it was magical and the rest of what he'd said was for tomorrow and all their tomorrows.

All the names in the world strung together couldn't have produced a better reaction than the one he got from Ruth when they broke through the clouds into the sunshine. That Jesus Christ had very little to do with it he didn't doubt, but that was her reaction to the sheer enormity of the highest mountain in Europe as the road levelled out and they drove the last few kilometres to the outskirts of town.

'Why is it that the rest of Europe are so far ahead of us Brits when it comes to tourist areas?' Was something he wasn't keen to admit, but Ruth was right they were, as they pottered around the small supermarket that was discreetly screened by trees, buying the essentials enough to see them through until the following morning. Maybe a short walk followed by a night in, went without saying.

'Camping des Deux Glaciers' was closed until March other than the dozen or so chalets that were available for hire during the winter months. Privately owned and paying a hefty rental to the site owner, he and his wife were guaranteed to enjoy themselves, the proprietor of chalet seven had told Harry when he'd first enquired and to his shame in perfect English. The beds would be made, the fire would be lit and if they were to encounter any problems then they had to refer to the information folder. That and wishing them a happy holiday should they decide to book.

Into the warm for the first time since they'd been shopping in Geneva, Ruth probably wouldn't have cared where she was by now. All that mattered was that she was with Harry and the world around her had finally stop moving. All she'd had to do to get them here was to say yes on the night that they'd booked. He'd organised the rest, heaven knows how?

Warm was an understatement in contrast to the outside temperature which was plummeting even further as the evening wore on, so they were able to relax and enjoy their cobbled together meal, without Ruth worrying that she might die from hypothermia before the night was out. The owner had kindly provided them with a choice between a bottle of red or white, the first of which was long gone, as with the fire blazing, they turned their attention to the must - read information book and dozens of leaflets that told them all they needed to know about Chamonix and if needs be what to do if there was a power outage. Harry knew what to do, he didn't need telling, although he doubted it would restore the power. After what had been a life changing few months, they were finally on their own with no chance of interruption. Well not until eight the next morning when a very handsome Frenchman was set to arrive in his van delivering bread.

That Harry had some surprises of his own up his sleeve, one of which was a letter that he'd left with Adam, were amongst the other things that he was saving for another day.

Bank it up and the fire will stay in all night, he'd done. It was time for that bath that Ruth had promised him and then bed.


	24. Chapter 24

**I had been planning on this being the final chapter, but discovered that I can't quite let this go for the moment. Please excuse my indulgence in sending Harry and Ruth to Chamonix - one of my favourite places on earth. Thank you as always for your reviews and the support that keeps me writing. CA.**

Another light dusting of snow had fallen overnight, as Harry woke up on what was a beautifully sunny morning, and gazed in wonder at Ruth's sleeping form. Today was the day, when for better or for worse, his destiny and hers would be set in stone. Lunch in an unpretentious restaurant where the locals ate, would be the perfect place to break the news and to watch her reaction. That and remove the final millstone that still lingered, as he drove them into a town that had barely changed in the years since he'd last been there. Cafés and restaurants and a sprinkling of small shops, designed to lure the tourists into spending their money on something that they didn't need, but at its heart was still a town that for the most part of the year concentrated on its greatest asset. A quiet haven with a winter sports opportunity of a lifetime. Not that he was planning on donning his skis or walking for the miles that he'd been forced into when he'd come there as a young army officer, on what had been deemed a strength building exercise, designed to make him and his fellow officers into men. No, he was way past that. It was the lure of the mountains and a trip in a cable car across into Italy, if Ruth could be persuaded that it was safe. That and the fresh air and the silence, particularly at night, which had never left him and seen them both sleeping far later than they usually did.

Other than when they'd been _loosely speaking_ at their various homes, both of them had been required to look the part. In his case, to wear suits and ties, knotted with precision, countless of them that he'd collected over the years. A symbol of what everyone expected him to be, only to be ripped off at the first opportunity. Whereas now, dressed in the clothes that he'd insisted they'd need to keep warm and, in his case to blend in, he could barely take his eyes off Ruth. In a warm padded jacket, what he considered to be proper boots and a scarf and bobble hat that matched her eyes, she was walking alongside him, happily chattering away at twenty to the dozen.

'I never believed that I could ever feel this happy,' she'd told him the previous evening, as they'd stood in front of the window and gazed at the star filled sky, raining down on mountain tops that had disappeared into the darkness.

He'd wrapped his arms tightly around her and her head had been nestling back against chest. The warmth of the fire and the extraordinary completeness of the moment, lulling them towards sleep.

That he'd made his decision and so unlike him had gambled rather than fitted all the pieces together, he deemed worth the risk. As long as he was patient and put his case across prepared to be rejected, which if it was he'd think again. He'd told her that he wanted a new life with her and she'd jumped at it, but this wasn't MI5 where he could orchestrate something where people were expected to jump through hoops, no matter what the consequences. This was real life, up front and personal, and the guns that he'd held at people's heads both real and metaphorically speaking that had changed people's lives for ever, had to be made silent.

'How about a swim?' interrupted his thinking, as Ruth stopped his thought process on the small bridge that crossed the river, gazing down into the roaring torrent that thundered down from the mountains, a look of bemusement on her face and clearly aware that he'd drifted off. It wasn't the first time that he'd been tempted to comment that she'd have made a damn good spy and it probably wouldn't be the last. She was far better at reading people than he'd ever been. He'd lost count of the times that he'd jumped to a conclusion and regretted it and as far as women were concerned and in Juliet's case in particular, he'd been bloody clueless. Shake her out of his system and he could really move on. He needed to tell someone the truth about his relationship with her and he wanted that person to be Ruth.

'Lunch,' he suggested, rejecting Ruth's joke of a swim and taking her hand, as they turned in the direction of the main street and away from the freezing cold water, that despite his own warm coat made him shiver. Another _why is that I wonder?_ Until he realised that he needed to pee.

'You can't be held accountable for the entire world's population Harry, it's full of people like Juliet. Believe you me I've met plenty of them over the years,' was Ruth summing up, as they sat in a small restaurant, where she'd the chosen fish and he was eating steak frites. His favourite meal given the chance to enjoy it. 'Power, the desire to control who you're with, is inborn in some people Harry. Divorces aren't only about money or infidelity. Think back to your school days, there has to have been a teacher that was a bully, I know there was at my school. Mr. Roberts who taught science, I was terrified of him. I know that this doesn't compare, but I bet Juliet was born to be a Mr. Roberts. We all make mistakes Harry, it's how we deal with them that counts. Given the chance, a powerful woman can be far more dangerous than a powerful man. The weaker sex is just a myth Harry, other than in my case of course,' was said as she stretched her hand across the table in an attempt to get him to change the subject and before his meal got cold, with a smile that he would willingly have died for.

That he could never tell her the full extent of what Juliet had done, but that it was sufficient for her to know that she'd been instrumental in his friend Clive being murdered, she'd accepted. Born out by what followed. That and the fact that she had no idea as to what he was leading up to. Why would she?

'If I intend living with a spy then I have to accept the rules that come with it,' not only made up his mind that this was the right moment, as reckless or otherwise and without preamble, he returned her smile and told her that he'd resigned.

'Have you really thought this through?' was masked out by the chatter of the other diners, as Ruth looked incredulously at a copy of the letter that he'd left with Adam to take to the Home Secretary.

'I've thought of little else since the moment I met you and I meant what I said Ruth, I want permanent. You know as well as I do that that I've spent the most of my life lying to the one person that I wished I didn't have to. Well not this time. If we're going to make our relationship work it needs to be open and honest, without you second guessing all the time and wondering if I'm going to be coming home and when I do if I'll be in one piece. I love you Ruth, so much so that I'll never find the words that will be adequate to tell you just how much. Do you know I actually ache for you when I'm not with you?'

Ruth did, but now that Harry was on a roll and wasn't talking about his work and in particular Juliet Shaw, she was happy for him to continue. She knew exactly what he meant. She'd lost count of the times that he'd walked out of the house and she'd been scared stiff that she'd never see him again. It would be easy to tell him to stop overthinking things and to get to the point, but she knew as clearly as the sun came up each morning that he needed to get through this in his own time. Harry wasn't one to be rushed. At least not with her.

Had he told Catherine what he was planning? she doubted very much. What would he do with his time whilst she was at work and where did he plan on them living, in her house or his? Were questions that were bouncing around in her head like a packet of ping pong balls that someone had dropped, as the waiter interrupted them by asking if they were ready for their coffee.

'Whatever we do, I can't lose touch with Jacob,' was her greatest concern and came out almost as a plea as he stilled her hands and told her to look at him.

'Ruth I'm not a complete idiot, I know how important Jacob is to you and I would never suggest anything that would change that, so just hear me out and then tell me what you think. We both know that Sophie's really struggling. She's never going to admit it and she may need some persuading, but I saw it in her drawn face and tired eyes when I saw her the other day. I've been there time and time again and it will break her eventually, believe you me. She's a qualified theatre sister isn't she, which means that she can work anywhere and so can you come to that. How about we throw caution to the wind just for once. Move away from London, I don't much care where, you can choose between the two of you. Wherever it is I'll have time on my hands and I can look after Jacob rather than Sophie having to paying for a child minder. We get on don't we, me and the little man, what do you think?' Was quite a speech, by which time Ruth had forgotten the rest of the conversation and was asking him if she could borrow his handkerchief.

* * *

They were still sitting there long after all but two of the other customers had left. The waiter discreetly waiting in the wings to clear their tables. The other couple at their usual table, it was where they came for their lunch these days. Why bother cooking when you could eat out and didn't have to pay? It passed the time too and they had plenty of that on their hands.

Curious as to who Harry and Ruth were, because they clearly weren't locals, they continued to watch them as their coffee arrived, as did theirs. Absorbed in each, almost to the point of ignoring their food after whatever it was that the man had said, surely couldn't have been bad news? The woman had reached across the table and was holding his hand and her eyes had barely left his and he was smiling, or at least now he was. Had he proposed marriage to her or perhaps they'd just got married and were here on their honeymoon? They were clearly in love with each other and this was new this love. That and irreversible.

They'd spent their married life knowing how that felt. Special and precious and not to be squandered, no matter what life had thrown at them.

'She's lovely, I'd have left you for her given half a chance,' the elderly man told his wife of more than fifty years as their waiter sat down. A twinkle in his eyes not dissimilar to Harry's that were firmly fixed on Ruth, who for the first time in his life was totally unaware that he was being watched.

'Yes, he's definitely said something to her to produce those happy tears,' their son told them, having watched his parents playing the same game as they did virtually every day now. 'If he was leaving her, she wouldn't have just told him that she loved him, the lucky bugger,' he told them.

He hand time on his hands as well. His shift was over until the evening and it was good to spend some down time with his mum and dad, before he drove them home.


	25. Chapter 25

**November 5** **th** **.**

'There's somebody who wants to talk to you,' Adam told an already excited Jacob, handing him his phone, as he was being helped into his boots by Fiona, before they headed off for the bonfire and fireworks party on Hampstead Heath. He'd stayed over the previous night, sharing Wes's room. Wes who'd spent virtually all his childhood in adult company, seemed to have revelled in looking after someone so much younger, as the boys had played contentedly and then been allowed to watch TV before they'd gone to bed. Adam's suggestion that, 'now Harry was potentially going to have so much time on his hands, that perhaps he'd like to add Wes to his creche,' had been met with a wry smile, and 'was that a pig that's just flown past?' from Fiona. As was his comment that Wes would make a very good older brother.

As promised though, right on cue and something that Harry had prearranged with Adam before they'd left, was that he was handing Ruth his phone, as they sat in the lounge of a small hotel in Italy, perusing the menu. The sheer delight on Jacob's face as he chatted away, first to Ruth and then to Harry had been well worth the subterfuge at both ends, as an equally happy Ruth, was wondering just how much more surprises Harry had up his sleeve and could she possibly love him any more than she did at this moment, as he smiled at her from across the table, sipping his drink.

When Harry had answered the phone, Adam had fully expected his first question to be about work. But no. That they were apparently in Italy for a night, as opposed to their love nest in France and about to go into dinner wasn't a surprise. Harry had style in bucket loads when it came to an occasion, something that he admired and aspired to. He could just picture him in this new role, his attention entirely on Ruth, totally at ease in his surroundings, their evening mapped out and probably the rest of their holiday as well.

'I'm in love with Ruth, it's as simple as that,' Harry had told him when he'd handed him his letter of resignation and he'd questioned Harry's reasoning. 'Call me a misguided old fool if you want too Adam, but I've been handed the chance that I never believed possible. Someone who loves me for my frailties as well as my strengths and we both know how rare that is. I've lived on the grid, almost considered it to be my home, whereas now if you can you can believe it, I haven't so much touched a drop of whisky in months?'

Harry had been the equivalent of the Godfather when he'd been on the grid. The rock. The steadying influence that they'd all clung too and would obey without question. The man that had made him. His closest friend. That Ruth had walked into Harry's life at a time when he'd been at an all - time low, doubting his capability, not only as a section head but as a man, was a miracle. She'd taken on the mantle that had been missing for years. His lover obviously, but his soul mate as well, who had revitalised the other side of Harry that very few saw or believed existed, other than perhaps him and Malcolm. His ability to love someone other than his children and of course his country, without reservation. Whereas now, Harry was beginning to sound almost poetic. Something that was supposed to be _his_ forte or weakness, depending on who was listening. In love maybe, but that Harry was resigning within five months of meeting Ruth, almost beggared belief. Harry was the beating heart of section D. As he'd said, destined to end his days slumped over his desk with a glass of whisky in his hand. Or so the cynical and probably envious of the prestige that his position held, muttered amongst themselves in the darkest corners of Thames house and beyond. Well more fools them he'd concluded, shaking Harry's hand and watching with envy, the broad smile that had spread across Harry's face. His eyes full of certainty.

Simple maybe, but as Harry sat on the other side of the table, listening to Ruth talking to the waiter in a prefect Italian accent, just as she'd done when he'd stumbled over his French, on more than one occasion over the past few days, but without embarrassing him or making it obvious, he was wondering if perhaps they really needed to go home at all, at least for the moment. Would it be so ridiculous to spend the next six months or so driving around Europe and indulging themselves? In principle Ruth had agreed with everything that he'd suggested, bar the where and what she thought wouldn't be insurmountable questions that they'd have to put to Sophie.

At that precise moment, his eyes were drawn to a French couple who were walking across the car park, their children laughing and giggling as they jumped up and down in the recently fallen snow. Snow and children screamed of Christmas to Harry and, more especially, one of those rare Christmas mornings when Graham had been the same age as Jacob was now, when he'd managed to grab a few hours away from the grid and had played in the garden with his children. Ruth had heard the commotion and was watching with a look on her face that he couldn't quite decipher and begged a question. Why Jacob and why did he mean so much to her?

She was still in her thirties and would make a wonderful mother, but was there a reason that this hadn't happened? Did she even want a child of her own? Was her friendship with Sophie and their weekends with Jacob enough?

Not now he told himself, not so soon after she'd said yes. He'd leave that one until they got home. Home, _their_ home was almost more than he could cope with thinking about at the moment. He was still coming to terms with the fact that she'd agreed to spend what amounted to the rest of her life with him and he wasn't about to throw a spanner in the works. If truth be told, he didn't ever want to throw a spanner again, although he suspected that at some time he would.

'Harry?' brought him down to earth again, as they were asked if they were ready to order.

That Ruth had never been abroad, other than on a day trip with her school to Calais, when she'd been in her teens, whereas he'd been to countries, some of which he would rather forget, made the fact that they were in a small hotel in Italy, _whose men were reputed to be the best lovers in the world, something that always annoyed the French and, explained why they had a two hour lunch break,_ somewhat of a challenge to Harry. He adored Ruth every inch of her, but the past few months with the constant interruptions, had dictated that their love making had been somewhat haphazard and restrained. It was one thing to have made love to Ruth in a hotel in Windsor, whereas here, shut away from the rest of humanity, in the Alps, with the snow falling silently outside the window, in a room that screamed of romance, the possibilities were endless. So by the time that they reached the top of the stairs and he closed the door behind them, Harry was ready to take Ruth to heaven and back, for as long as his energy would allow him.

What he hadn't considered was that Ruth was feeling exactly the same as he was, so wasn't about to object. She'd spent her life studying people and she'd been fascinated by how Harry's body language had changed since they'd arrived in France. That he was fiercely British was never going to change, but that he'd embraced the French and now the Italians as though he actually _liked_ them, seemed to have energised him. It certainly had her. It completed him, made him less secular and for someone who appeared to be fascinated by her grip on languages, was an added attraction. That and it was Harry the man that she was about to sleep with, or not in this case, as opposed to Harry the spy, who was pinning her against the door as soon as it closed behind them, well hey ho. Clothes flying and kissing her with a passion that usually built up steadily. Sound proof walls or not, this Harry was a real turn on.

 **December two years later.**

The consequences of that night had been challenging. Not only because they'd returned to London, at a time when people were queuing up to buy houses at the right price and they'd sold within a month, moving to a house on the Devon coast that overlooked the sea. But when on a routine visit to register with their new doctor, Ruth had been told that she was pregnant. A miracle given that after a minor operation in her twenties to alleviate minor stomach cramps, she'd been diagnosed with a condition that meant she'd never be able to conceive a child.

He'd been sitting in the waiting room, presuming she'd get a clean bill of health, which she had, as had he, but had been called in when Ruth's legs had given way under her and she'd fainted.

'Never say never,' the smiling doctor had said to them, pouring Ruth a glass of water as he congratulated them. Scribbling down details of the specialist that they needed to see, as Ruth gripped his hand like a vice, as though she thought he was going to run away and leave her. Her eyes full of questions that he was too shocked to answer.

Terrified that she'd never go full term, he'd attended every appointment she'd been too, during what had turned out to be a complicated nine months. As was the birth, when he'd been advised that he needed to stay with her. Ruth, convinced that their baby wasn't going to be born alive, whilst he, fearful that they'd lose not only the baby, but her as well, he'd done what was asked of him. During what had felt like a lifetime, he'd breathed with her, through all the contractions and the pain, as she'd clung to him. Until screaming into the world to meet his parents, their miracle had arrived.

Nicholas 'our snow baby' as he'd found himself telling him, during those first few precious hours, whilst Ruth had slept and he'd sat holding him, was perfect. Completely overwhelmed by the instant love that he felt for this child, their son was a now a happy and healthy, heading towards two years old. With his mother's eyes and temperament, Harry loved him more than life itself, as he watched him gazing at the Christmas Tree that Ruth was attempting to decorate. He'd been sitting on Harry's lap but had begged to be put down, by banging his tiny fists on Harry's legs. One of the many amusing traits that he'd inherited from his father. Now though, he was doing his best to join in, by tottering and crawling around in front of Ruth, impeding her progress. Giggling in the same way that she did when she was happy.

It was one of those special moments that Harry knew he'd never forget, as an insane feeling of love, mixed with the urge to cry gripped him. Ruth had handed their son the tiny toy train decoration that he'd been given by Jacob, and in that instant Nicholas had looked up at Ruth and smiled. Mother and son, miraculously his.

Disadvantages had he been asked, were that they'd both been denied their beauty sleep, but other than that it was hard to think of any. Advantages plenty. Ruth had been advised and had no plans to go back to work for at least another year, which if she did, she'd work from home she'd told him. Nicholas was healthy and loved and at a time when probably he shouldn't have had a child, he'd arrived without that consideration. He'd re energised both of them and having a child had brought other people into their lives. People who would never know what he'd once been. He was just Harry and he was accepted as such. The world was still turning as it always would. They had the spring and then the summer to look forward too, with walks on the beach and new horizons to explore.

Sophie and Jacob were still a very important part of their lives. She'd been a rock in the early months, as Ruth had recovered and he'd adapted to the responsibility of looking after a small baby. She'd willingly followed them to Devon and she and Jacob were set to join them for Christmas. No snow unfortunately, but then who needed snow, when his future was mapped out. A future filled with love and expectation.

Ruth didn't need to look up to know that Harry was watching them. He'd barely stopped since Nicholas had been born. Deliriously happy in their new home, she had the family that she'd craved. A man who loved her and a child that was never meant to happen.


End file.
